Friday, August 3, 2012

1996-2012: Remembering Muffin.

So guys. I wanted to share some more fiber/knitting stuff with you all today, I feel like my blog has been lacking that a lot lately what with the MIY Mondays and Saturday Evening Book Reviews (which, btw, should I keep doing?). BUT this is much more important than any fiber or knitting project can ever be.

As many of you know, I have 2 wonderful kitties back home waiting for me when I visit: Muffin and Sasha.  Well, last Saturday we noticed Muffin was limping with her back legs quite a bit and barely moving or eating.   Hoping that it was just a bad fall, we didn't take her to the emergency vets, instead waiting until Monday when our regular was open.

Monday night I got a call from my Mom, and I knew something was up.  As hard as it was for her to tell me, that's how hard it was for me to hear: Muffin was going to have to be put down. This week. Soon.  I honestly thought it would be soon, after seeing her in pain Saturday I had a hunch at what would happen, but actually hearing it was another story. I broke down and balled for a good half hour.  Muffin, MY cat, since FIRST GRADE was finally at that point in her life where she had to move on.  I knew it would be while I was away, but I was never prepared for it to happen.

Muffin on Saturday before I left for Manhattan

The week went on and I checked in with my mom every day. "How's Muffin?" "Is she ok?" "You already know what I'm going to ask".  Although they had planned to have it done Wednesday, the inevitable was prolonged by the hope of her getting a bit better, of which she seemed to be.  That and the fact that my dad didn't want to do it if she would have gotten better and then feel guilty.  But in the end, she was getting worse.  As it turned out, she had a stroke on Saturday and, thank god it didn't, it should have killed her then and there. But instead it paralyzed her bag legs and she was slowly getting weaker.  I guess by this morning she wasn't even peeing in the box anymore.

Muffin yesterday, courtesy my dad.

So I kept my phone on me at work and anxiously awaited the news.  At 11:00 A.M. I received this photo from my sister:

"Muffin says Goodbye" - sent by my sister. This is when the tears came. 

At 11:30, I received the text "Muffin is at peace" from my mom.  I knew she was, but it didn't stop me from wanting to walk out of work right then and there, balling my eyes out (I didn't though).

When we first got Muffin, back in 1996, she was just a kitten.  She was also plain old MEAN! I remember loving tabbies and kittens and seeing her and knowing she was the one I wanted, but I also remember running around the house with slippers on so she wouldn't bite my feet, and climbing on top of furniture to avoid her wrath.  I think one of the best memories I have of her is our very first house we had her in had a screen door, and she was climb it and just sit there, almost like Spider-man (if you have ever read old Garfield comics you know what  I mean).  It was the cutest thing ever.

Kitten Muffin!

As time went on she tamed down and got pudgy. We didn't know her breed when we got her from the shelter, but we came to learn she was at least part Maine Coon, which made her big and furry.  The perfect ball of fluff! Then around 7 years ago (already?!) Mom hit her with the car, leading to major rib surgery.  Even the vet was unsure if she'd make it, but she did! Muffin was a fighter and we all knew it.

I think the biggest challenge Muffin has ever faced is Sasha, who we adopted about 3-4 years ago (already?!?).  Those two have had a love/hate relationship from day one. Sasha seemed to think she could actually take Muffin on, and sometimes she did! I am so scared to see how Sasha will be without her big sister around.

In the end, I know Muffin had one hell of a life, and I know that she is still here, somewhere, in spirit, watching me.  She may no longer be physically on my bed, waiting for me to come home, but she will always be in my heart, and that is all that truly matters.

RIP Muffin. August 1996 - August 2012. 


  1. I seriously started crying while reading this. What a fitting send off for such a wonderful kitty! Take care, Lisa.

  2. Sending you much love and hugs Lisa. It is never easy when a much loved pet leaves us behind. Take care of yourself xoxox

  3. Muffin sounds like she must have been a very special cat and she was very lucky to have you in her life. Sending hugs.

  4. I teared up, too. It's so hard to lose a pet but you had Muffin for a good long time and paralyzed and in pain is no way to live, it was time. Much love and virtual hugs sent your way. <3

    (Also, definitely keep doing the book reviews if you enjoy them, I love reading them.)

  5. Oh Lisa! I am so sorry for your loss. Its hard to lose something we care so much about, especially when she has been with you so long. I'll keep you in my thoughts.

  6. Oh, Lisa! I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I'm wiping away tears as I type this: I can't even begin to imagine how you must feel. Stay strong, and find peace in knowing that Muffin had a wonderful, full, and happy life because of you. You'll be in my thoughts and prayers.

  7. aww so sorry to read about Muffin :(

  8. Dear Lisa,

    I am very sorry to read this. I know, you posted this three days ago, and maybe my answer now will make things worse again - but I just want to tell you that I know exactly how you feel and that you and your family have been very brave.

    Our first cat died about eight years ago, after having her second(!) stroke. A year and a half before, she had had her first, survived it but was getting really "old" then. The day she had her second stroke, my dad and me took her to the vet and the vet found out that she not ust had had a stroke, but also stomach cancer. I thought I'd really break down right there in that room, and it was the first time that I've seen my dad in tears. It is one of the most terrible moments in life, sitting there and waiting and nothing that can be done.

    I wish you a way to soothe yourself, Muffin is definitely not in pain anymore and altough this is a painful solution, you ranked her being without pain higher than the pain you are experiencing now.

    I'll light a candle for both of you this evening and give you a great, big hug.



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