In memory of Silver
|Silver in 2008. The flash in his eyes is too strong. Sorry about that, Silver.|
We inherited him when my wife's aunt died. The family told us he was between 14 and 19 years old when we got him. He was probably closer to 14 than 19, because we got six more years out of him.
Silver was our old man. He had a lot of health issues. He was neglected for a while after his mom's death. He was skinny. He was bleeding where he shouldn't have been. We couldn't get him to eat. Flor finally got him to accept liquefied cauliflower and hamburger from a syringe. Once he started eating again, he ate other food and gained weight.
Silver had bad teeth. Eventually, he couldn't eat anything. We had all his teeth pulled. When the vet who pulled his teeth saw him for the first time, she shook her head and said, "Old as dirt, huh?" After the operation Silver could eat puree-style wet food. He was the same old Silver. He didn't slow down a bit.
Silver was deaf. He never knew what Flor's and my voices sounded like. Merry didn't like Silver, and took advantage of his deafness to ambush him in doorways. He was bigger than her, but never fought back with claws. Sometimes when he meowed, he didn't make any sound. He couldn't hear himself.
Silver was a lap cat. As soon as I sat down anywhere, he was in my lap. He didn't wait ten seconds. It was incredible. I wouldn't see him anywhere in the room, but somehow he would appear in my lap.
We had the usual long end-of-life routine with Silver. I went to work the day after we put him down. I shouldn't have. I needed a day or two off. One of my coworkers said, "What's the big deal? It was just a cat." He didn't say it to me. I wasn't supposed to hear him, but I did. My coworker was a decent guy, but he just didn't get it.
I've got the usual mementos of Silver. Flor found me a nice cat-shaped wooden box. We have a lock of Silver's hair in there, his tags, and so on. Most of all, I have pictures and the memories. Silver was special.