The alarm on my watch just went off. This alarm has been set for 10:00PM every day for the past couple months. A reminder to keep me on a nightly routine.
I just turned off the alarm. I won’t need it anymore. Let me rewind the clock a bit to explain.
Like many couples that meet and fall in love, they often come up with little nicknames for each other. Often affectionate and sometimes annoying to those around them, they will call each other these names more often than their actual ones.
Jody and I were not much different. Well, at least I wasn’t.
To Jody I don’t recall ever being much more than “Honey” (if I was then I’m sure I’ll find out quickly after she reads this). I on the other hand have had a compulsive requirement to nickname all my immediate family members in some way. In my family growing up this process was pretty common. My Dad always had a unique nickname for each of us kids – so I guess I can blame him.
Before Jody even became an official member of my family I ended up giving her a nickname. There is no science or formal process for this, it just seems to happen naturally. Her maiden name is Millikan, and some how at some point she became “Miss Milli” to me. I know, I know, but it’s true.
As you can probably imagine, I made quite a habit of calling her this name during the prior year before our wedding. I wouldn’t even consciously think about it – she was just “Miss Milli” to me. Even after the “I do’s”, when she was officially Mrs. Allsop, I still couldn’t kick the habit. It was going to take time.
Our first apartment together was a small place in North Salt Lake City, Utah. After living there for a month or so, we (Jody more than I) decided it would be fun to get a pet. Jody had always had a dog and wanted to get another one. I don’t recall if the apartment allowed pets with a deposit, but I do know that we had little money, so even if they did allow pets we couldn’t afford any deposit fees. We therefore decided to be dishonest and get a pet without telling anyone. And since a dog would be too loud - it had to be a cat.
So we (mostly Jody) began searching the ads for cats needing adoption. Soon we found this adorable little fluff ball that I believe was only 6-8 weeks old, and secretly snuck her home to live with us (we later learned that she was a Maine Coon mix).
When it came to naming her (I don’t recall all the details exactly), but I believe I suggested naming her “Milli” as a way to help me break my nickname habit for Jody. Jody may recall differently, and I’ll update this if needed, but I do know that “Miss Milli” the cat was inspired by “Miss Milli” my lovely wife.
As a kitten she was a typical cat. Playful. Full of energy. Always into something. As she grew, her personality and uniqueness started to surface. Prior to Milli I had never had a cat that was picky when it came to food. At least not food that I had traditionally found to be enjoyable to most felines. Milli on the other hand didn’t like things like milk, cheese, bologna etc. Seems she became fond of her cat food and little else was appealing. I was shocked.
Then there was the following episode that I’ll never forget it as long as I live.
One day while watching TV, Milli jumped up on my lap and I began to pet her. She was a typical cat in this regard – you’d stroke her back and by the time your hand reached her tail she was doing all she could to push her butt as high up as possible. This time however her efforts seemed “different”. She was pretty aggressive and began to act strangely. Not thinking much of it, I put her down and vigorously ruffled her fur all over her back before getting up to do something else.
That’s when I realized something was wrong. I really cannot do justice in trying to describe the way she was behaving, but it really scared us at first. She seemed to be partially paralyzed – only her back legs seemed to be working. She trembled all over and gave out this low pitch moan. We literally thought that I had somehow broken her back with my rough petting.
I tried to pick her up and she moaned, squirmed, and twitched erratically. “What did you do to her!” Jody asked in a panic. “Nothing!” I insisted, but fearing I had not known my own strength and had been too rough. We called an emergency Vet to seek advice. By this point Jody was in tears – the cat seemed in agony.
While I was in the other room trying to describe the problem to an on-call Vet, Jody was in the other room trying to comfort our poor cat. It didn’t take long for the Vet to deduce the cause of our young female cats torment. She was in heat. And I being the only male creature in her presence was somehow driving her wild. The cat had the hots for me!
Sure enough, with me out of the room Milli calmed down and returned to normal behavior. Jody could pet her and hold her and all was fine. I just had to walk into the room, say her name, and she would drop to the ground and get all worked up again. What started out as fear that she was badly injured or dying quickly became great comical fun (at least for me). She just needed some lovin! :)
Jody made an appointment to have her spayed the following week.
Even after being spayed Milli seemed to have formed a bond with me. No matter what I ever did (or didn’t do), she loved me unconditionally. She loved me more than anything else on earth. She even loved me more than she loved Jody, the person that often cared for her needs the most. She preferred to be with me at all times. Her favorite place was my lap or chest. She seemed to have a special sense that I was home and sitting down – because she was always on my lap within a few minutes. Even when Jody was holding her and petting her, if I sat down, she came running to me. I didn’t need to call her.
As the years progressed we moved A LOT. Nearly once a year for the first part of our marriage. Milli was a trooper through each one. Always well adjusted. But as is true of all long hair cats, she did have issues with hairballs. We never could comb her enough to make much difference. Without fail she was going to leave us a “gift” somewhere in the house – guaranteed.
As she aged and the hairball frequency seemed to get worse (once a week or more), we eventually had to ban her from our bedroom. Just couldn’t handle getting out of bed and stepping on a fresh “gift” any longer. It took a long time for her to adjust to this banishment. She’d scratch at our door and cry for what seemed like hours. Eventually she gave up and for the last few years we’ve gotten into a habit of leaving our bedroom door closed at all times.
Through everything she has always adjusted to change. Each kid has drug her around the house and yanked enough fur out of her to make a large fur coat. She never did become what I would call a “kid” friendly cat – she learned to avoid young kids as much as possible. Adults, especially me, where her favorite.
Fast forward to a little over a year ago.
Milli started throwing up more often than normal. Not just hairballs, but most food she ate. A visit to the Vet revealed that she had Kidney disease and a problem with her Thyroid. They couldn’t cure either, but could treat them for a time. I was told she’d probably have another year or two tops.
So for the past year+ I’ve been tasked with giving her medicine. I didn’t do a good job of staying on task, and I fear it may have cut her life shorter than it may have otherwise. Initially she started to do better. She gained some of her lost weight back and seemed more active, but was still throwing up at times. With a new baby in the house this was very frustrating – we didn’t want Ciera to find a “gift”.
Then over the coarse of this past spring/summer, between vacations and other summer projects, I got even more off-track with her meds. I think I missed nearly an entire month at one point, and then was very sporadic otherwise. By late October she had gotten worse - was throwing up more often and losing weight again. So I consulted the Vet and was told that she NEEDED to be on the Thyroid meds religiously for them to work. So I set an alarm on my watch and made sure she had her meds each night before bed.
But the treatment overall was a double-edge sword. The special food she had been prescribed was supposed to help with her Kidneys, but her Thyroid being screwed up was causing her to throw it all up. Giving her Thyroid meds allowed her to eat more, but the meds accelerated her Kidney failure (and she stopped eating). Either way she was starving.
Monday morning I took her to the Vet to see what more we could do. She was so frail and weak I feared she wasn’t going to make it much longer. The Vet confirmed our fears and explained the only course of action left was aggressive IV treatments to flush her system of all the toxins her Kidneys had failed to flush, and then very closely monitoring her (in the hospital) for a least a week to see how she does. It wasn’t going to be cheap. And it would only likely give her another month, maybe two.
So I brought her home and decided to let the kids all spend one last night with her. We took pictures, told stories of her glory days, and gave her as much love as we could. Jody and I even put her in our room on a soft chair by our bed. I’d clean up any mess she made, knowing she wouldn’t make one. She had nothing left.
Then at 8:00am I drove her back to the Vet for the last time. I stayed with her to the end – I owed her that much for all the love she gave me. It was very peaceful for her. They gave her a light sedative to relax her. I held her through it all. I placed my finger at the base of her neck to feel her purring – she was. She always purred when I held her, but you could rarely hear it – just felt it when you touched her neck.
As the sedative took effect I felt the purring fade. I could still see and feel her breathing and I let her know how much I loved and appreciated her life. I got to hold her for several minutes before the doctor came in with the final lethal dose of medicine. I was told that she would be gone within a few seconds and wouldn’t feel anything.
I placed her on the table and continued to pet her. “Goodbye Miss Milli” I whispered as she was given the injection. It was less than 5 seconds and she was gone. I glanced at my watch. 8:33am. The doctor left me alone with her and told me I could stay all day if I wanted. I only stayed for another 5 minutes or so and left. The Vet would take care of her remains.
I was surprised at how hard this ended up being for me. I guess it really hit home how much this cat adored me and I wasn’t going to have that anymore. I certainly doubt I’ll ever find a replacement, and currently have no plans to try.
I just now stretched my legs out under my desk and (out of habit) tried to pet her with my foot. She was almost always at my feet every night while I was at the computer.
I do hold some regrets for the feelings of frustration I had towards her these past years as her health declined. I hope she knows she was loved and will be missed. In her 14 years of life, she never faltered with her love, despite our frustrations with her. Quite an example to learn from.
I quickly put together a slide show of pictures taken over the past 10 years (since I went digital). Click the picture below to view it.
