Goodbye, Ralphie

Ralphie was a stray cat who showed up one day in 1996 and stayed with me
over ten years and two continents. She came as part of a pair of black cats, but Ralphie was the one who walked up to the front door as if she already lived there and expected to be fed. The other cat, who by all appearances is probably her son (or brother), lurked around the corner like a shadow, earning him the name Evil Ralph. But Ralphie, always the mama, persisted until she got some food for both of them. And of course, once you've fed a stray cat, you've got a responsibility, and from that day on I had two new pets.

Ralphie was always fat, even as a stray...a big lightbulb-shaped cat with the tiniest meow. Even from the first day, her splayed legs and crackling joints made it hard to tell just how old she was, but she had air of a mother cat, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Her first love was probably ham; she had a sixth sense that would bring her out of a deep sleep if a ham sandwich was being made anywhere in the vicinity. It was her love of ham (and almost any other food) which made managing her weight a problem, especially when living with two other cats, so on the vet's advice we decided that she should stay with Roser, my mother-in-law, as a type of "fat farm" for a few weeks.

Ralphie and Roser took to each other instantly, and Ralphie enjoyed having a place to herself with a live-in maid. Soon a few weeks turned into a few months, then a year. They fell into a routine, with Ralphie waking Roser up in the morning, greeting her when she came home, and watching TV together most nights. Over time, Ralphie did lose some weight, but just as importantly, she was healthy and content.

Then suddenly, over the last couple of weeks, she began to lose her appetite, eating only certain types of food. After a few days more, she would only eat dry food when mixed with canned wet food, until on Thursday she stopped eating altogether. Outwardly she seemed a little tired but otherwise fine, but Roser called the vet to arrange an emergency appointment for the following morning. Overnight she went downhill fast, and by yesterday afternoon she was listless, then semi-conscious, and by early evening she was nearly comatose. The vet took a blood sample and rushed it to the lab by taxi, leaving us with a few hours to wait for the results.

While we waited, I sat with Ralphie, looking for signs of improvement or the contrary and talking at length with the vet. Eventually the results came back, and looking at the analysis and her x-rays, it was clear that she had suffered acute kidney failure, and the prognosis was practically nonexistent. By a little after midnight she was just slightly awake, but it was clear she was in discomfort, and the choice was obvious. Finally, at 1:10 this morning, the vet gave her a large dose of anesthetic, and in a few seconds it was over, quickly and quietly.

Today Roser's house seems strangely empty, and we're all feeling the space where she used to be. As Amy put it, she was "everybody's mama", and she'll be missed. If you have pets of your own, remember to appreciate them while you can, and give them a little extra attention today in memory of Ralphie.

A little bit of ham might be nice.