In the past few days, I had noticed Kiki breathing more heavily and a bit spasmodically. She also seemed unusually lumpy with excess fluid throughout her body. For the last several months, she had nightly IV injections with Lactated Ringers fluids, to assist her poorly-functioning kidneys. So I thought the fluids might have stopped getting absorbed into her body. Another sign of failing health was her sudden incontinence -- she'd peed while getting the fluids the night before, and yesterday she'd been trailing bits of feces on the carpet. Really bad indicators, obviously.

This morning, I took her to see the doctor at AKAL Animal Hospital for a checkup. When we got into the room, Kiki was panting heavily, and Dr. Chahal seemed worried for her as he checked her out. The x-rays confirmed his suspicions: her heart was failing, and it was actually her heart fluids that were filling up her lungs and around her organs, and throughout her body. Although it would've been possible to drain the fluids, it would only be a very temporary fix. The best option was to put her down.

I phoned Thomas and Amy with the sad news, and they offered their condolences, as did my buddy Omar. Only yesterday I had mentioned to Omar and Tony how much I loved Kiki, how dear she was to me, and how much I would miss her when she was gone; I didn't think it'd be so soon that I'd have to say goodbye. I thought we'd have another half-year to a year together at least.

Doan stopped by to help me through the process. As Kiki got some oxygen therapy to help her breathe easier in her final minutes, I told her how much I loved her, petted her, kissed her on her head, and said goodbye. Thomas was on the phone with me while this was taking place. He had been the one to originally adopt Kiki, 12 years ago, a lifetime ago for us. I had been lucky enough to have taken care of her for most of her life. Although when we originally got her, I was tremendously allergic around cats, I somehow got used to her.

Kiki didn't actually take the lethal injection. After I'd signed the paperwork for the cremation plans, and entered the room, she'd already passed away on her own. "Natural causes," as they say. I don't remember seeing her last breath. She seemed to have already let go, and as the doctor was getting ready to give her the shot, even he seemed a bit surprised. This was about 12 PM. Doan and I wished we'd been able to see her pass, but that's okay, that she left us before we were totally expecting it. She deserved to be free from her pain.

It all seemed to happen so fast, even as I tried to slow down the experience so I could process it. The staff at the hospital were universally wonderful, and I thank them for being so kind and thoughtful in helping us take care of our beloved cat.



Sketchbook Drawings, 2003.


September 2007.



August 2007.


I will miss her beautiful kitten face and green eyes.

I will miss her walking past my legs and brushing against them.

I will miss coming home and having her greet me at the door.

I will miss her meowing and the pat-pat-pat sound her front paws made as she rubbed against the edges of cardboard boxes.

I will miss cradling her to my room to give her the nightly IV shots.

I will miss how she would want to go outside any chance she could get.

I will miss her sitting on top of my mouse pad while I worked on the computer, and her annoying me by getting in front of the monitor.

I will miss how she rested on my lap as I watched television.

I will miss playing with her. Even in her old age, she'd still want to play and chase string.

I will miss how she learned even in old age, how to "shake hands" for treats.

I will miss how she slept on my chest and purred through the night, and waking up to her on the bed, sometimes still on my chest.



Kiki Tran: July 31, 1995 - December 31, 2007

I love you, Kiki. Thanks for keeping us company and growing older with us. We were so lucky to have you in our lives.