In Loving Memory

 I want to start by thanking all of Cleo's blogging friends- including those who, for one reason or another I wasn't able to thank on their blogs- for the outpouring of love and sympathy on learning of her passing.  Cleo's mom and I are still trying to accept that our sweet, crusty old girl has left us with a bunch of empty space around this house, and that she's no longer here to greet us with her typical drowsy indifference when we return from being out and about. 

As so many of you have experienced, the heartache endures, and the reminders are many.  Cleo is now back home with us, though that tiny, carved wooden box on the fireplace mantelpiece doesn't do much to lessen our grief.  

Her food & water dishes, her collar and tags, the empty corner where her litter box sat, the narrow kitchen cupboard with her food, treats, meds & grooming things, her little tin bucket of toys she rarely played with and the assorted ramps and steps I cobbled together for her are all reminders.  The majority of photos I hadn't used yet included way too many with Cleo's catnip plant, which has now taken over an entire corner of the front walkway.  Even though we'd shown so many with that damn plant I decided to include one here of our sweet Cleo in healthier times, 

 and maybe a few favorites from over the years.

Our Sweet Angel- We will never forget you.  We love you forever and miss you more than words can say.

Please note- comments aren't necessary as you've all been so gracious with your words of condolence in our previous post.   

With Sincere Appreciation,

Brian (Cleo's Dad)

 Our hearts are beyond broken.  We walk around this extra empty house like zombies.  The littlest body in our home had the biggest presence, and we don't want to accept that she's gone.  It's hard to write this without her squished in here by my side.  We both break down in tears without warning, especially with all the reminders scattered around.  Her mom is beating herself up with guilt at our having taken that damn vacation.  What few pleasant family visits and activities we did enjoy aside, had we known we'd have so little time with Cleo we'd never have gone away.  The battle between her kidney disease and her anemia alone was too much for her tiny 18-year-old  body to bear.  The final report from MedVet, though realistic, gave us some hope that we might have as much as a couple of weeks with our dear girl.  When we brought her home Monday evening and lifted her from her carrier only to see that she could barely keep her legs under her we knew differently.  She struggled to walk even a few steps on the hardwood floors throughout this place, her weak hind legs sliding out from under her.  We set Carpet padding and drop cloths all over to make it easier for her.  We confined our three selves to one bedroom with food & water, mattress on the floor & her litter box and all the bedding and padding she could want.  By Tuesday morning we knew.  4 Paws Farewell helped her pass peacefully and painlessly that afternoon out on the sun-warmed stone steps where she loved to spend so much time. Dr. Beth picked a red rose from one of our bushes, placing it beside Cleo.  I still move over to one side in this chair as was habit to make room for her when we posted in the early morning hours.  The daily routines with Cleo will likely remain forever in her heartbroken mom's memory.  There are reminders everywhere, and as painful as it is, we want to keep it that way for now.  I'm crying again looking at the photos I'm about to post from her last day with us.  Yesterday morning I woke Cleo's mom, laying beside her and sobbing into her shoulder like a fool.  Today I'll get it out of my system while proofing this post and try to let her sleep.  We miss Cleo terribly and will always wonder if we might've had just a few more years with her.  Rest in Peace, our beautiful, feisty, loving stubborn Tortie Queen.  We can only hope you know that mom and dad tried their best, and we're sorry that you suffered so.  We will never forget you and the years of joy your attitude brought us.  

 Our poor old girl has been in the ICU at MedVet Asheville since this past Saturday morning, where they're doing so much more for her than we were able to here at home.  It's been a rough week for Cleo, and a roller coaster ride for her mom and me.  Her regular vet's most recent report at the end of last week was not good, and even though we had to trust that they were looking out for Cleo's well being we weren't ready to just go along with the direction it seemed they were leaning right then and there. I guess at the very least we wanted to get a second opinion before making the decision we know we're going to have to make sooner or later.  Yesterday evening's progress report from MedVet wasn't too uplifting, and then last night's update, though a little more positive, was only slightly easier to hear.  Like I said, roller coaster...

Our grumbly, don't-touch-me-but-love-me-but-leave-me-alone-but-love-me-dammit old fart was at least resting as comfortably as she could be for the night.  We should be getting an update in the coming hours.