Izzy, me & Lola
Lola, our beautiful tortoise kitty, crossed over The Rainbow Bridge last night. Like all of us who’ve had to say goodbye to a longtime friend, it hurts and we feel so sad. Lola, you’ll be missed. I want to honor Lola here; her spirit, feistiness, sweetness and strength.
Lola was diagnosed in February with breast cancer, which very rapidly metastasized into her lymph nodes and her lungs. She fought like hell, and her determination amazed me. After an invasive removal and biopsy of the growth, tests revealed the cancer was already too far along to make sense putting a 13 year-old cat through another operation that would’ve been very grueling and wouldn’t give us much more time.
She was great for a couple of months, longer than anyone anticipated. Totally asymptomatic. But, as of two months ago, the cough started and we knew it was just a matter of time. Two weeks ago, when she’d had a particularly bad couple of days, we made a vet appointment to see whether it was time. But, Lola, in her typical feisty fashion, rallied and we all agreed it wasn’t. The past week, her breathing became more and more labored and her quality of life decreased to nil. I’d made a comfy bed inside my closet’s shoe cubby for her; a safe place to steer clear of Sophie and Jasper and their hard-partying play sessions. And, that’s where she lived, meowing to me to let her out for a trip to the litter box or to get some “air.” Two days ago, she ventured out for the day, but being she’d almost completely stopped eating, despite trying an appetite stimulant, she was too weak to do anything but rest. It was then, looking at her once rounded body and lush, shining coat now sunken and dull, that I knew now was the time.
Lola lived life well. She loved to play, and was all in when she did it. She was fast and, like a kitty, once she lost interest, she was outta there. She hated getting her nails trimmed. My husband would have to hold her, wrapped in a towel, while I did the cutting, careful not to snip too close and give her any more reason to whine louder or try to take a swipe at one of us for subjecting her to this cruel form of torture. She was never a chow hound, like Izzy, who eats for her country. She was a discerning eater and only liked certain things…like freeze-dried chicken or catnip treats or catnip toys, or more catnip. 🙂 She would purr easily and often, loved leaping up on the couch as my husband and I watched TV and curling up on one of our laps.
She could also be quite imposing, when she wanted to be, a cat biatch, you might say. With Izzy, there was distain from day one. Intimidating stares, blocking, swatting…I was constantly going to bat for Isabel so she could get a fair shake. But, in the later years, she would occasionally sidle up to Isabel and give her a lick. She was softening.
Knowing we’ve been a good friend to Lola by helping her across the bridge removes any wondering about the decision. It still hurts; I find myself getting choked up on and off throughout the day. And this morning, the first morning, it was strange to not see Lola there. The dogs, especially Sophie who’s lived with Lola since she was a puppy, will know she’s gone. But, Isabel, our other kitty, who met Lola when Izzy was nine months and Lola was three months, will feel it. Even though they never got along well, in the end, it’s incredible how animals know what’s needed and do it. Izzy would sit close to Lola, sensing she needed some comfort and reassurance.
You were a great friend, cuddle partner, family member. Lola, you’ll be missed. Greatly.
