At the end of September, our kitty William passed away from an aggressive cancer. He was 10 years old. Owen loves to tell the story of how William came to be a part of our family. He and I were at the pet store one day, buying kitty hairball remedy, when we stopped to take a peek at the rescue kittens. Owen was looking at the kitties in the lower crates, but I lifted him up to see the tiny orange one at the top who was named Sneakers. He looked so sad and lonely locked up in that crate that I just couldn't leave him there.
Sneakers would become our William. We brought him home and soon realized he was a very sick kitty. Spending time alone in a crate had made him quite depressed to the point of not eating or drinking. By the time he came home, he was severely dehydrated. But after daily trips for intravenous fluids, he was finally on the mend and back to his energetic self.
William had a special bond with Owen. There was no doubt that Owen was his human.
Owen was only 4 years old when William came home. Over the next decade, they'd spend many of their days together.
William was one-of-a-kind. The only cat that I've ever known who loved to play fetch just like a dog. He would pick up one of his favorite balls and walk around the house meowing until he found someone willing to play with him. Then he'd drop the ball at their feet, wait for them to toss the ball across the room and dart after it, picking it up in his mouth as he happily retrieved it for another toss.
William loved snuggling in for a nap. He would squeeze into the tightest of spaces like a tiny box or into a nook of an already packed bed. If he found a warm human laying down, he loved walking up and down their legs or back, all while kneading and purring loudly.
Last fall, William started to limp. I assumed he had a sprain from jumping down from the counter. After a trip to the vet, she agreed that it looked like a sprain. William has always had great anxiety at the doctors so rather than run more testes, we were instructed to give him pain meds. After a few weeks, the limp had gotten worse. This time we went in for an Xray. The news we'd receive would be devastating.
William had an aggressive injection-site sarcoma that had nearly eaten through his leg bone. There was no way to save his leg and in the hopes of stopping the cancer from spreading, the leg had to be amputated, and fast. In December, his leg was amputated at the Animal Emergency and Referral Center. The first couple of weeks were an adjustment as he learned how to get around on just 3 limbs. But William did amazing and before we knew it, he was back to jumping up on the counter to gobble up any food he could find. That boy sure loved to eat!
Unfortunately, we would soon find out that William's cancer had spread. We did not catch it early enough, and it had already metastasized to his lungs. Over the next several months, we'd try one chemo drug after another. But none slowed down the growth. There was nothing else that could be done. So William went on palliative care. We managed his pain with medications and purchased an oxygen crate to help make breathing easier.
He was doing amazingly well up until September when things took a sharp turn. New masses started to appear throughout his body. In those last couple weeks, he barely came out of his oxygen crate. His eating had sharply declined. I knew the end was near.
On September 23rd, I told him it was time to let go. He had fought a good fight and held on much longer than we could have hoped. Later that day, he came out of his crate, meowing loudly as if calling us to him. Owen and I came running to him, and moments later, he took his last breath. He was finally pain-free and frolicking over the Rainbow Bridge.
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