So I just finished putting together our new computer a few hours ago. I haven't been able to download my email from various sources since last September due to the lack of a working computer.
Anyways, I just finished sorting my email and I found this mail that I sent out in April 2002 wrt the death of my cat Velvet. She was 18.5 years old at the time. So, I read what I had written and it was as if no time had passed since her death. I knew I was writing it at the time as a form of therapy for myself, but I had no clue that it would affect me even now, over a year after her passing. Anyways, this is the email I sent at that time to deal with my loss.
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Hi everyone. You're receiving this letter because you either interacted with Velvet at some point or other in her life, heard me speak of her, are a fellow pet owner, or are simply a friend. For those of you that never had the pleasure of meeting her, she was a pure-bred Siamese. I received her from a family friend a few months after I turned 6 in 1983. Velvet was roughly 4 to 6 weeks old at the time.
She passed away Saturday night at the age of 18 years, 6 months. If you didn’t know, that’s a very advanced age for a cat. They’re considered geriatric at 8, and the average life span is roughly 11-13 years. Her lifespan of 18 ½ years is roughly equivalent to a human living 90 years, for perspective.
I know this letter is long, but I ask that you read it. I spent a while remembering all the things in my life with Velvet and writing them down as much as I could. To give you all an idea of what she was like and what she meant to me.
We took to each other rather quickly considering she was a kitten and I was a little kid full of energy. I had a ton of time to play with her, talk to her, and pretty much build a very strong bond that lasted her entire life. She was a typical Siamese in look; jet black legs, ears, tail, and face, with a light tan/gray body color that over the years changed to dark brown/gray. However, she wasn’t typical in her behavior.
Velvet would do little things that would amaze us as she grew up. It wasn’t uncommon to see her use our toilet instead of her litter box (my aunt thea said it blew her mind when she saw it, especially since she had perfect aim. lol), turn on the water faucet if she wanted a drink, or push open doors if she wanted to leave a room. She even learned how to stick her paw underneath a door if the space was large enough, or into the crack between the door and the wall, and pull until it came open. As you can probably surmise by now, she was extremely intelligent.
Very much a house cat, she could be seen romping down the hallways, up and down the stairs, or settling into a ball on your lap for a nap. I spent many hours running through the house with a shoe lace trailing behind me, laughing frantically as she gave chase. At other times when I was in my "down time" mode, she would climb up on my bed and plop herself right on top of a magazine I was reading at the time, or just sit and watch TV with me, purring.
She was never fond of the outdoors, but as she grew older, she began to grow bolder. When we moved in the early 90’s, we had a front yard with a tree and two bushes. During the summertime, she would come out and sit on the stoop with me and soak in the sun, sometimes venturing out far enough to take a few sniffs of the bushes, or roll in the grass. I guess she’d realize where she was because, like clockwork, she would get up and run back to me, purr a little, and ask to be let back into the house. That process would repeat itself a few times during the day, every day, until it got too cold for her to be outside. During other times of the year, she would sit up in the window sill and lazily watch the world go by.
She would show her affection in myriad ways. I’d wake up in the morning with her sleeping next to my head, chest, or back. She’d meow and lick my face to wake me up in the morning for cartoons on Saturday, and for school on the weekdays. Come to think of it, maybe waking me up on weekdays for school wasn’t a loving gesture, hehe. She was even very protective. If she ever thought I was under attack, she would rush to the rescue. When I was little, my mom would tickle me mercilessly, and I’d be laughing and crying, sometimes screaming because I couldn’t take it anymore. The first time I remember Velvet came out of nowhere and jumped on my mom’s leg and actually bit and clawed her. That continued for a long time until my mom figured it was best not to try and tickle me anymore with Velvet around. Later on when she was older and couldn’t really move around that much, she would give a growl if I cried her name out during a tickling session. It was generally enough to make my mom stop (love ya mom!).
I guess it was one of those perks that come from being a protective owner. I would feed her meat from my plate, tuna fish that mom would make, and other assorted goodies. Naturally she relished the food, to the point where a meal would not go by where she wouldn’t paw my leg begging for food. I pretty much would oblige in every case, even at the chastising from mother.
Over the years, I naturally had other pets; two gerbils, two cats, and two iguanas. She never bothered the gerbils (though she did kill the occasional mouse that found its way into our house) or the iguanas, but she had problems with the other cats. The first cat we got was an all white mutt named Barnacle. They actually got along eventually after a few weeks of tension. I guess because Velvet was young enough (9 I believe) so that she could keep him in his place. If he ever got out of line it wasn’t uncommon to see her bat him across the face or knock him down. With the pecking order firmly established, she grew comfortable, and they even started to become good friends from what I could tell. Unfortunately my mom decided to give him to some friends of hers because he was a marauder of meat. Anytime she left food out to defrost, he’d throw it on the floor and devour it. He would also tip over the garbage looking for food. I guess she got tired of it, hehe.
It was the second cat that we got, Orion, who caused all the major problems. Velvet was older at that time (11 I think) and couldn’t physically stand up to him. Over the course of a few weeks, I noticed that she began to get listless, and was losing weight quickly. It turns out that Orion was stealing her food, not letting her use the litter box until he had soiled it, and was taking her sleeping spot (the bean bag under my bed). Once I realized what was going on, I very quickly removed Orion from the household, and she bounced back to her normal self within a week. After that, there was never another pet in the house.
Amazingly, Velvet was still very spry even at the age of 14. It was no feat for her to jump up into my lap when I was on the computer and settle in for a few hours as I worked, surfed, or watched DVD movies (this was before I got my entertainment set in 2k). She was still able to jump up to the top bunk of my bed and take a nap in the pile of clothes that I neglected to hang up (sorry mom!). Even at that advanced age, I could get her to run up and down the stairs, up and down our furniture, chasing after a shoelace. Naturally she wasn’t able to give chase as long; usually a minute or two before she would have to sit down. Those were the times that I would pick her up, put her in my lap, and let her chew on the string while I brushed her with my hand.
I think I truly realized how deeply she was attached to me when I went off to Yale in 1996. My mom told me that every day that I was gone, she would wail for hours and hours on end when she would pass my room. She wouldn’t sleep anywhere else but under my bed on the bean bag that I had given to her, and many times wouldn’t come out of the room except to eat and use the litter box. But when I would come home during vacation, the wailing would stop, and she would treat my mom as if she didn’t exist. When I left Yale in 1998 and came home, it was as if I never left to her.
In the years from 1998 to 2001, I really began to notice the effects of age on her body, as her sleeping patterns lengthened, she gained weight, and her hair color darkened. She even had to take the steps one at a time, sometimes catching her breath midway before continuing. Arthritis set in on the arch of her back, and her legs. Eventually we had to get her medication so that she could move around effectively. Cloudiness began to set in around the outer edges of her eyes, and slowly crept in until both eyes were covered with a light film. At the end, she would sleep an average 21 to 23 hours a day, only waking to use the litter, get food and water, or come and say hi to me.
I moved out with my partner, Edgar Peterson, in June 2001. Velvet would cry all the time for the few months that I was out of my mom’s house. Again, she never left my room unless she wanted food or to use the litter. One day my mom decided to bring her over so she could see the new place. Velvet hated traveling (normally she would put up a tremendous struggle), but that day she was unusually quiet and well behaved. Well, until she got to our apartment and saw me. Then she started meowing and purring, walking around the house, generally making herself at home. After maybe half an hour she became really tired, so I put her up on our bed. She fell asleep instantly. Maybe 2 to 3 hours later, mom was ready to leave, so we began putting Velvet into her carrier. She put up the most amazingly struggle I have ever seen. Even when we finally managed to get her in the carrier, she butted her head up against the metal grating on the door, desperately trying to get out. In all the years that we’ve taken her places, be it the vet, moving, or just a ride in the car, she never ever put up that much of a fight, or seemed that desperate to get out. We figured that she didn’t want to leave me. As soon as we brought her back upstairs, she stopped meowing, and walked down the bedroom and went to sleep. Thus, Velvet moved in. Luckily, Eddie likes cats.
By late 2001/early 2002, her age had finally caught up to her mentally. There were behaviors that, after researching, I realized were due to her advanced age. Sometimes she would step halfway into the litter box, think that she was inside, and “do her business†on the floor. Other times she had difficulty walking in a straight line. And many times, she would meow for no reason, just long drawn out wails. When she would sleep, she had trouble keeping her head up. I began realizing that her end was coming a few weeks ago when the behaviors became more frequent.
Through it all, she still made huge attempts to socialize. If Eddie and I were watching TV, she’d come out and sit at my feet. Once she struggled mightily to jump the 1 ½ ft clearance to get on top of our leather sofa so she could watch a movie with us; a clearance that in her youth would have been nothing to her. I knew she was determined because she stared intently at the spot she wanted to get to. Finally after a few minutes of staring, she made the jump and landed, barely, before settling in for the movie. It was the last time she would make any jump.
April 6th, Saturday night, I took a shower. As was customary for her when I came out of the shower, she got up out of her “Bed Buddies†pet bed and walked over to me and sat at my feet as I dried off. She placed a paw on my big toe, as was usual, before lowering her head onto her leg and drifting off the sleep.
A few hours later, I wrapped her up in my scarf and carried her in my arms a few blocks to the pet hospital. She didn’t struggle, but she did meow greatly when we left the apartment. I just kept talking to her, you know, to keep her calm. I just kept saying “Sshhh. It’s okay Velvet. It’s alright. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,†over and over again. She settled quickly, and even began purring.
We got to the hospital and she started crying again. I had forgotten to keep talking to her. I started again and she quieted down again, relaxing in my arms. I took her in one of the back rooms of the hospital where the doctors let me stay with her. She was as wide eyed as I’d ever seen her in a long time, maybe years. I had forgotten how beautiful they were; deep blue, almost like crystal, very piercing. I kept talking to her, rubbing her fur, telling her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. The doctors took almost half an hour to finally come, but I’m glad they did take a long time. It gave me time to really be alone with her and cherish those last moments.
They asked me why I had come to the hospital for the euthanasia procedure, and I explained her symptoms; suffering from natural aging, wear and tear, on a physical and mental level. You know it’s funny. They gave the normal platitudes of “Well we’re sorry about your loss†and whatnot. But I could tell the change in their demeanor and attitude when I said, in between tears mind you, that I had her in my care since I was 6, and that she was 18 ½ yrs of age. It was hard for me to keep my demeanor together, no let me be honest. I couldn’t keep myself together. They asked if I wanted a few minutes more, but I said no.
The doctor raised her hind leg, and shaved a tiny spot on her leg so that he could see a vein. She began to struggle a little bit and complain, but I kept rubbing her and talking to her to calm her down again. He slowly inserted the needle. At that point I sat down eye to eye with Velvet and rubbed her face softly, heard her purring as she looked at me. As the doctor injected the solution, I could see her breathing slowing, her eyes dilating. I kept rubbing her and talking to her, even as her life was slipping away. She meowed quietly as the doctor finished the solution. A few seconds passed before she took one last breath, and then she was gone.
My research on euthanasia told me that Velvet would be put into a deep and irreversible sleep, would feel no pain as the solution relaxed her heart muscles and diaphragm, and stopped neural activity. It was comforting to know that she didn’t suffer any during the procedure, and that I was there with her to see her through it.
Velvet was my first pet. For all intents and purposes, we grew up together. It’s amazing how many things can happen over 18 ½ years. When I put her life into perspective, she lived through four presidents, three domestic terrorist attacks, two wars, economic booms and busts, and only one truly good Batman movie. She had a full life in which she was loved dearly, and she returned that love.
I had a very difficult time writing this down. I had to stop a few times. Remembering many of these situations brought uncontrollable tears to my eyes, but in the end I’m glad I did. It gave me a chance to fully reflect over my life with my cat, and see how much she was a part of it. I hope that those of you who are still reading at this point enjoyed it in some small part. I tried to convey the sense of meaning that she had in my life and what she brought. She was one of a kind.
Velvet: October 1983 – April 2002
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I've placed pictures of Velvet here:
http://www.iinteractive.com/malik/velvet/index.html
They were too large to send via email, since I know many of you access your email via modem. There are 5 photos in all.
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Anyways, I just finished sorting my email and I found this mail that I sent out in April 2002 wrt the death of my cat Velvet. She was 18.5 years old at the time. So, I read what I had written and it was as if no time had passed since her death. I knew I was writing it at the time as a form of therapy for myself, but I had no clue that it would affect me even now, over a year after her passing. Anyways, this is the email I sent at that time to deal with my loss.
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Hi everyone. You're receiving this letter because you either interacted with Velvet at some point or other in her life, heard me speak of her, are a fellow pet owner, or are simply a friend. For those of you that never had the pleasure of meeting her, she was a pure-bred Siamese. I received her from a family friend a few months after I turned 6 in 1983. Velvet was roughly 4 to 6 weeks old at the time.
She passed away Saturday night at the age of 18 years, 6 months. If you didn’t know, that’s a very advanced age for a cat. They’re considered geriatric at 8, and the average life span is roughly 11-13 years. Her lifespan of 18 ½ years is roughly equivalent to a human living 90 years, for perspective.
I know this letter is long, but I ask that you read it. I spent a while remembering all the things in my life with Velvet and writing them down as much as I could. To give you all an idea of what she was like and what she meant to me.
We took to each other rather quickly considering she was a kitten and I was a little kid full of energy. I had a ton of time to play with her, talk to her, and pretty much build a very strong bond that lasted her entire life. She was a typical Siamese in look; jet black legs, ears, tail, and face, with a light tan/gray body color that over the years changed to dark brown/gray. However, she wasn’t typical in her behavior.
Velvet would do little things that would amaze us as she grew up. It wasn’t uncommon to see her use our toilet instead of her litter box (my aunt thea said it blew her mind when she saw it, especially since she had perfect aim. lol), turn on the water faucet if she wanted a drink, or push open doors if she wanted to leave a room. She even learned how to stick her paw underneath a door if the space was large enough, or into the crack between the door and the wall, and pull until it came open. As you can probably surmise by now, she was extremely intelligent.
Very much a house cat, she could be seen romping down the hallways, up and down the stairs, or settling into a ball on your lap for a nap. I spent many hours running through the house with a shoe lace trailing behind me, laughing frantically as she gave chase. At other times when I was in my "down time" mode, she would climb up on my bed and plop herself right on top of a magazine I was reading at the time, or just sit and watch TV with me, purring.
She was never fond of the outdoors, but as she grew older, she began to grow bolder. When we moved in the early 90’s, we had a front yard with a tree and two bushes. During the summertime, she would come out and sit on the stoop with me and soak in the sun, sometimes venturing out far enough to take a few sniffs of the bushes, or roll in the grass. I guess she’d realize where she was because, like clockwork, she would get up and run back to me, purr a little, and ask to be let back into the house. That process would repeat itself a few times during the day, every day, until it got too cold for her to be outside. During other times of the year, she would sit up in the window sill and lazily watch the world go by.
She would show her affection in myriad ways. I’d wake up in the morning with her sleeping next to my head, chest, or back. She’d meow and lick my face to wake me up in the morning for cartoons on Saturday, and for school on the weekdays. Come to think of it, maybe waking me up on weekdays for school wasn’t a loving gesture, hehe. She was even very protective. If she ever thought I was under attack, she would rush to the rescue. When I was little, my mom would tickle me mercilessly, and I’d be laughing and crying, sometimes screaming because I couldn’t take it anymore. The first time I remember Velvet came out of nowhere and jumped on my mom’s leg and actually bit and clawed her. That continued for a long time until my mom figured it was best not to try and tickle me anymore with Velvet around. Later on when she was older and couldn’t really move around that much, she would give a growl if I cried her name out during a tickling session. It was generally enough to make my mom stop (love ya mom!).
I guess it was one of those perks that come from being a protective owner. I would feed her meat from my plate, tuna fish that mom would make, and other assorted goodies. Naturally she relished the food, to the point where a meal would not go by where she wouldn’t paw my leg begging for food. I pretty much would oblige in every case, even at the chastising from mother.
Over the years, I naturally had other pets; two gerbils, two cats, and two iguanas. She never bothered the gerbils (though she did kill the occasional mouse that found its way into our house) or the iguanas, but she had problems with the other cats. The first cat we got was an all white mutt named Barnacle. They actually got along eventually after a few weeks of tension. I guess because Velvet was young enough (9 I believe) so that she could keep him in his place. If he ever got out of line it wasn’t uncommon to see her bat him across the face or knock him down. With the pecking order firmly established, she grew comfortable, and they even started to become good friends from what I could tell. Unfortunately my mom decided to give him to some friends of hers because he was a marauder of meat. Anytime she left food out to defrost, he’d throw it on the floor and devour it. He would also tip over the garbage looking for food. I guess she got tired of it, hehe.
It was the second cat that we got, Orion, who caused all the major problems. Velvet was older at that time (11 I think) and couldn’t physically stand up to him. Over the course of a few weeks, I noticed that she began to get listless, and was losing weight quickly. It turns out that Orion was stealing her food, not letting her use the litter box until he had soiled it, and was taking her sleeping spot (the bean bag under my bed). Once I realized what was going on, I very quickly removed Orion from the household, and she bounced back to her normal self within a week. After that, there was never another pet in the house.
Amazingly, Velvet was still very spry even at the age of 14. It was no feat for her to jump up into my lap when I was on the computer and settle in for a few hours as I worked, surfed, or watched DVD movies (this was before I got my entertainment set in 2k). She was still able to jump up to the top bunk of my bed and take a nap in the pile of clothes that I neglected to hang up (sorry mom!). Even at that advanced age, I could get her to run up and down the stairs, up and down our furniture, chasing after a shoelace. Naturally she wasn’t able to give chase as long; usually a minute or two before she would have to sit down. Those were the times that I would pick her up, put her in my lap, and let her chew on the string while I brushed her with my hand.
I think I truly realized how deeply she was attached to me when I went off to Yale in 1996. My mom told me that every day that I was gone, she would wail for hours and hours on end when she would pass my room. She wouldn’t sleep anywhere else but under my bed on the bean bag that I had given to her, and many times wouldn’t come out of the room except to eat and use the litter box. But when I would come home during vacation, the wailing would stop, and she would treat my mom as if she didn’t exist. When I left Yale in 1998 and came home, it was as if I never left to her.
In the years from 1998 to 2001, I really began to notice the effects of age on her body, as her sleeping patterns lengthened, she gained weight, and her hair color darkened. She even had to take the steps one at a time, sometimes catching her breath midway before continuing. Arthritis set in on the arch of her back, and her legs. Eventually we had to get her medication so that she could move around effectively. Cloudiness began to set in around the outer edges of her eyes, and slowly crept in until both eyes were covered with a light film. At the end, she would sleep an average 21 to 23 hours a day, only waking to use the litter, get food and water, or come and say hi to me.
I moved out with my partner, Edgar Peterson, in June 2001. Velvet would cry all the time for the few months that I was out of my mom’s house. Again, she never left my room unless she wanted food or to use the litter. One day my mom decided to bring her over so she could see the new place. Velvet hated traveling (normally she would put up a tremendous struggle), but that day she was unusually quiet and well behaved. Well, until she got to our apartment and saw me. Then she started meowing and purring, walking around the house, generally making herself at home. After maybe half an hour she became really tired, so I put her up on our bed. She fell asleep instantly. Maybe 2 to 3 hours later, mom was ready to leave, so we began putting Velvet into her carrier. She put up the most amazingly struggle I have ever seen. Even when we finally managed to get her in the carrier, she butted her head up against the metal grating on the door, desperately trying to get out. In all the years that we’ve taken her places, be it the vet, moving, or just a ride in the car, she never ever put up that much of a fight, or seemed that desperate to get out. We figured that she didn’t want to leave me. As soon as we brought her back upstairs, she stopped meowing, and walked down the bedroom and went to sleep. Thus, Velvet moved in. Luckily, Eddie likes cats.
By late 2001/early 2002, her age had finally caught up to her mentally. There were behaviors that, after researching, I realized were due to her advanced age. Sometimes she would step halfway into the litter box, think that she was inside, and “do her business†on the floor. Other times she had difficulty walking in a straight line. And many times, she would meow for no reason, just long drawn out wails. When she would sleep, she had trouble keeping her head up. I began realizing that her end was coming a few weeks ago when the behaviors became more frequent.
Through it all, she still made huge attempts to socialize. If Eddie and I were watching TV, she’d come out and sit at my feet. Once she struggled mightily to jump the 1 ½ ft clearance to get on top of our leather sofa so she could watch a movie with us; a clearance that in her youth would have been nothing to her. I knew she was determined because she stared intently at the spot she wanted to get to. Finally after a few minutes of staring, she made the jump and landed, barely, before settling in for the movie. It was the last time she would make any jump.
April 6th, Saturday night, I took a shower. As was customary for her when I came out of the shower, she got up out of her “Bed Buddies†pet bed and walked over to me and sat at my feet as I dried off. She placed a paw on my big toe, as was usual, before lowering her head onto her leg and drifting off the sleep.
A few hours later, I wrapped her up in my scarf and carried her in my arms a few blocks to the pet hospital. She didn’t struggle, but she did meow greatly when we left the apartment. I just kept talking to her, you know, to keep her calm. I just kept saying “Sshhh. It’s okay Velvet. It’s alright. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,†over and over again. She settled quickly, and even began purring.
We got to the hospital and she started crying again. I had forgotten to keep talking to her. I started again and she quieted down again, relaxing in my arms. I took her in one of the back rooms of the hospital where the doctors let me stay with her. She was as wide eyed as I’d ever seen her in a long time, maybe years. I had forgotten how beautiful they were; deep blue, almost like crystal, very piercing. I kept talking to her, rubbing her fur, telling her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. The doctors took almost half an hour to finally come, but I’m glad they did take a long time. It gave me time to really be alone with her and cherish those last moments.
They asked me why I had come to the hospital for the euthanasia procedure, and I explained her symptoms; suffering from natural aging, wear and tear, on a physical and mental level. You know it’s funny. They gave the normal platitudes of “Well we’re sorry about your loss†and whatnot. But I could tell the change in their demeanor and attitude when I said, in between tears mind you, that I had her in my care since I was 6, and that she was 18 ½ yrs of age. It was hard for me to keep my demeanor together, no let me be honest. I couldn’t keep myself together. They asked if I wanted a few minutes more, but I said no.
The doctor raised her hind leg, and shaved a tiny spot on her leg so that he could see a vein. She began to struggle a little bit and complain, but I kept rubbing her and talking to her to calm her down again. He slowly inserted the needle. At that point I sat down eye to eye with Velvet and rubbed her face softly, heard her purring as she looked at me. As the doctor injected the solution, I could see her breathing slowing, her eyes dilating. I kept rubbing her and talking to her, even as her life was slipping away. She meowed quietly as the doctor finished the solution. A few seconds passed before she took one last breath, and then she was gone.
My research on euthanasia told me that Velvet would be put into a deep and irreversible sleep, would feel no pain as the solution relaxed her heart muscles and diaphragm, and stopped neural activity. It was comforting to know that she didn’t suffer any during the procedure, and that I was there with her to see her through it.
Velvet was my first pet. For all intents and purposes, we grew up together. It’s amazing how many things can happen over 18 ½ years. When I put her life into perspective, she lived through four presidents, three domestic terrorist attacks, two wars, economic booms and busts, and only one truly good Batman movie. She had a full life in which she was loved dearly, and she returned that love.
I had a very difficult time writing this down. I had to stop a few times. Remembering many of these situations brought uncontrollable tears to my eyes, but in the end I’m glad I did. It gave me a chance to fully reflect over my life with my cat, and see how much she was a part of it. I hope that those of you who are still reading at this point enjoyed it in some small part. I tried to convey the sense of meaning that she had in my life and what she brought. She was one of a kind.
Velvet: October 1983 – April 2002
---------------------------------------------
I've placed pictures of Velvet here:
http://www.iinteractive.com/malik/velvet/index.html
They were too large to send via email, since I know many of you access your email via modem. There are 5 photos in all.
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