Our dear cat Saki has gone into that Great Good Night. She was 17 years old, and had been diagnosed with kidney disease last year. We didn't think she would last as long as she did. I opted out of the IVs and daily injections, watching her carefully for signs of discomfort or distress. On Monday, she was fine, if a little creaky. By the time I got back from work on Wednesday, she told me clearly that she was ready. She had started to walk in a crouch, and didn't seem to want any food, even her favorites. Before I left for work, I cut up some Mahi Mahi for her. It remained untouched. I found that she hadn't been able to make the big step over the lip of her litter box. When we tried to pet her, she winced or growled when we touched her anywhere but her head. I had hoped for a few days to say goodbye, but when I saw her that night, I knew that any delay would be for me, not her.

I am very lucky to have an uncle who is a vet; and while he is more of a Farm-Animal-type-vet, he did us a great favor by making a house call. Saki was snuggled in a soft blanket. He first gave her a tranquilizer under the skin to relax her. From what we both saw, that may have been enough. About ten minutes later, he injected the final dose. I held her gently on my lap until she was gone. I hope I didn't wait too long. I had wanted to prevent suffering.

Saki was a terrific cat. She had lots of personality, and liked people, even strangers. She was very patient with children and even if pestered enough to bat or nip, she was careful to never break a child's skin. She was very cuddly, but also loved to play. When we moved to Nebraska, I learned that she was a terrific mouser!

I got Saki from an Animal Shelter in Los Angeles in March of 1992. She was five months old. The day I first saw her, she wasn't ready for adoption yet (they spay/neuter first), but I recognized her as my cat instantly. The morning she became available, I was first in line outside the shelter in the pouring rain. Having done my recon, the moment the door opened, I walked directly to her cage, told the worker "That's mine!", and hustled her in her carrier to the front desk. (Why all this? I was a poor actor, and in LA, if more than one person wishes to adopt an animal, it goes to the highest bidder.) Saki was beautiful, with clear, round blue eyes, and lavender-tinged fur. She was sweet and friendly, and playful. I knew someone else would want her too. So I spirited her out as smoothly as I could, even as I hear a voice behind me: "What happened to that beautiful little Siamese kitten?" -- She's not really Siamese, she has plenty of plain-old-domestic-shorthair in there, but her coloring is Balinese, as far as I've been able to tell.

Saki and I have been together since then, through a lot of life changes. I'll try to add some stories here, as the mood strikes me... Give kisses to your animals tonight. I bet they deserve kisses.