We adopted Henry when the family that had raised him from a bottle fed kitten moved to another state and were afraid this this "outside cat" would be eaten by the coyotes or bob cats that lived in the woods behind their new home. Henry was 18 at the time. He was declawed and neutered. He was flea infested, had a matted coat, but was as friendly a cat as I had ever met. He greeted me every time I walked by his house while I was out walking. He begged for love when I knocked at the door doing census work. The humans who brought him this far in life had put him outside because they had acquired two very large dogs who lived in the house. We adopted Henry in June. After a trip to the vet and some de-flea-ing, he was the most affectionate cat I've ever met. Anyone who came into the house would be "Henry'ed" -- he would jump onto your lap and climb up onto your chest, lay his head on your shoulder and purr. He could never get enough.
Just before Thanksgiving, Henry had a stroke. It paralyzed one whole side of his body. He could neither walk with balance nor get to the food or litter box. Henry was not happy even on anyone's chest.
The day before Thanksgiving, I brought Henry to the vet's for the last time. He lay across my chest as the I.V. was put into his leg. He purred as the chemicals flowed from the syringe to his veins. He clung silently to my shoulder as his last breath left him.
Henry, you lived a long life. I can only hope that in your last months in a new home you found peace, love, and care. We will miss you.
