Saturday, December 27, 2014

In Memorium: Chango, 2004-2014

Chango was born on September 19, 2004, while my coven was having a Mabon ritual at my house.  We knew his mother was pregnant, as we'd been feeding her and her two older kittens for quite a while.  Our first glimpse of him on the day he was born (we have a picture in our main computer, which is on the fritz right now) was of an orange and white ball of fur surrounded by four black balls of fur (his sisters). 

Because they were in danger from a construction crew who didn't know they were there, Martin brought them all inside when they were three weeks old, along with their mother.  We eventually found homes for two of them, but Mama and the other three stayed with us, and we took in the two older kittens as well.

Even when they were still nursing, Chango always had to be in the middle of things.  He had soulful golden eyes that made you melt looking into them.  He was spoiled rotten, and got into the habit of whining when he wanted something.  He loved to cuddle and be carried like a baby, but kneading was his life.  As a human, he would have made one hell of a bread baker!  He was constantly rushing between my feet to get into my altar room so he could sprawl on the floor and hang out with me there.  He brought love and laughter into our lives, along with some frustration and a few tears.

A couple of years ago, he barely survived an infection that started in one fang and spread to his lower jaw.  I told him then that he couldn't die before we paid off the $845 bill.  I don't think he made it, but it wasn't for lack of trying. 

Last month, we found that his liver had failed, and he had a less than 33% chance of the medication helping him.  Fortunately, it did, and we were given six extra weeks with him.  However, a few days ago, he began going downhill again, and this time the vet found a mass in his abdomen.  He told us frankly that, even if he managed to successfully remove it AND even if it wasn't cancerous, having two serious medical situations so close together meant that Chango's chances of surviving another year were low.  Because of this, combined with his age and the prohibitive costs, we decided to let him go.  We didn't want him to have to go through all this misery a third time.  So the vet gave him a tranquilizer before the final shot, and we held him and rocked him until he fell asleep.

Losing a beloved fur companion is never easy; it's even harder when you are with them from almost their first breath to their last.  Then they're more like your children.  On Monday we will take him to where our other children in fur are buried.

Bast and Sekhmet, please guard your brother Chango, and guide him safely to wherever our beloved cats go! 

We love you, Chango!  Rest in peace, Mango Boy.

20 comments:

  1. Hug! I'm so sorry for your loss. It's been 9 years since my Aslan passed. I miss him everyday.

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    1. Thank you. I understand; I still miss cats who have been gone for over 20 years. Time doesn't change the loss, it only blurs it a bit. The empty spaces they leave in our hearts never completely heal. Hugs to you, and my sympathy as well.

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  2. I'm so sorry to hear this. After losing my cat Milo in May my whole world turned upside down. He was like a child to me, we connected on a spiritual level. It's terrible losing a member of the family, but Chango was very lucky to be loved and welcomed into the world by you. What a special relationship you shared. :)

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    1. Thank you, it WAS a very special relationship. I'm still in shock, although writing this has helped a lot. They ARE our children, no matter what others may think. And it hurts like hell when we lose them. Even though in human years he was about 60, he was still one of my babies, just like my son is, although he'll be 25 in a week.

      I'm sorry for your loss, as well. I hope things are getting a little easier for you now.

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  3. Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss. I know how devastating it is to lose our furry loved ones. I truly hope they are waiting for us to join them again one day.

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    1. Thank you. I hope so, too! I did a shamanic journey for Yule 2013, and spent time cuddling with some of my fur children who have already gone. I hope that happens when I pass over as well.

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  4. He sounds so lovely! We had to let our beloved doggy go this year due to cancer too! It is so sad! I am sure they are watching us!

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    1. Thank you. I think they are, too! And I'm sorry for your loss, I hope his passing was peaceful.

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  5. Oh honey. I am so, so sorry for your loss. Sending you lots of love and peace.

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    1. Thank you, we sure need it right now.

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  6. I am so sorry to hear about this. I know how hard it is when a furbaby dies.

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    1. Thank you. You'd think it would get easier, especially with so many, but it never does.

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  7. Lucretia, I am so sorry to read this, an awful time for you all. The little blighters make a nest in your soul. Take care x

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    1. Thank you. Yes, they do, drat them, and the hole they make when they leave never goes away.

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  8. I'm so sorry for your loss. I know how sad it is when you have to make such a tough decision but it can often be the kindest and most selfless thing to do when you know they are in pain. He was lucky to have that love.

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    1. Thank you so much. I know it was the right thing for HIM and that's why we made that decision, but of course, part of us doesn't want to be selfless, we want to keep them with us forever no matter what. And it's never easy playing God, no matter how right the decision is. Thanks for understanding.

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  9. I'm sorry for your loss, Lucretia. May you always retain fond memories of him.

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    1. Thank you. I definitely will, he was a memory maker, all right! And believe it or not, I will miss his whining.

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  10. I still get teary thinking of our dear Borzoi Kaos, when we had to make the difficult decision to put him to sleep. It's an awful thing to have to make that decision, Lucretia. Much love.

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    1. Thank you. It is SO hard, isn't it? I've had to do this twice before, and only with Shadow was it even close to easy, because she was so obviously ill and in pain. But at least, unlike with people we love, we CAN do this for them, and not force them to keep living in pain and misery. And I'm grateful for that. Hugs to you!

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