Tonight, after consulting with the local vet, Mauler was put to sleep. She's been going downhill for the last few months, and her quality of life consisted mostly of sleeping on the cold linoleum of the bathroom floor or bathroom sink until she heard the sound of food of any kind -- hers or someone else's. It appears to have been the combination of a thyroid issue that had reduced her to just over 4 lbs and a heart murmur that was making her super tired -- but then there was also the fact that she was 17 years old.
Which means for almost half of my life, she was close by -- in all kinds of houses and apartments and with all kinds of fellow pets. She was the one cat that didn't run when Demon was in the same space, content to let him lick her into a wet mass of fur. [As a matter of fact, in the house in Lebanon, she would sleep on my chest while I slept on the couch in the winter (my room was in the attic there, and it wasn't the place to be on cold cold nights), and she would wake up when DJ started getting ready for work to head up to greet Demon super early each morning.] She was partially raised by the ferret back in the day, and I'll never forget the moves she seemed to pick up from Little One, when she would put her claws up behind her head and just kick and kick and kick -- what I called her 'Nam flashbacks. And she chased after the other Little One (the box turtle), and was chased by Sassy and Gracie when Shirly lived with us, and she grew old next to Baby and Murder and Mystery (sometimes willingly that close, and sometimes begrudgingly).
There are too many memories to list them all -- like how she used to give a millisecond of warning before using anyone that was nearby as a ladder to climb to get to a higher space, and how I woke up to find her at the top of my pillow, holding each side of my head in a paw while she groomed my bald spot. Always vocal, always in charge, always stubborn (that stubborn streak is probably what caused her to live many months beyond what she should have in the first place), and always oh so lovable ...
As she slipped away tonight, I whispered to her the story I've always told her -- how I found her in the woods, and how she was so small that she slept inside my shirt for the first three days ... and now I have the memories of all of the other 6200+ days that she spent with us as comfort.
And now, for at least that many days looking forward and probably oh so many more, Mauler will be missed.
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