May 22, 2009
Miss Casey enjoying cat heaven
Casey visits Lamont at the computer. Her very pronounced tiger stripes are evident in the photo.
Also known as: Quesadilla, Miss Exploradia, Miss Chirpadea, Miss Squawkadia, Miss Barfadia, Miss Persnickety.
March 1991-May 9, 2009
Casey Belliveau first came into our lives 10 years ago. We had mice periodically invading our house every autumn at the first cold snap. I mentioned this casually to my mother.
She said, "I think Jim is trying to give his cats away due to Judy's allergies." I relayed that Jim's cats were being given away to Lamont, just conversationally, not as a request to take them. He said, not "oh really," but "OK."
Once I figured out we had leapt into the realm of actually acquiring Casey and Oliver, I called Judy who was very happy that they wouldn't be picked up by strangers as a result of an ad at the grocery store bulletin board and that instead they would stay in the family.
I first recall seeing Casey in the 1980s at Jim's house, where she struck me as large, calm and good with visitors and children as she strolled around the living room. The gentle and less confident Ollie would generally flee at the arrival of guests.
Jim termed Casey a princess who was always perfectly groomed. When she transferred to our household, where I had no clue how to interact with a cat, she knew who to train her adoring eyes on.
"This is a GREAT CAT!" exclaimed Lamont with the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas upon Casey's strolling out of her cat carrier onto our dining room table. She was in his arms purring as loud as a motorboat engine. He renamed Casey as Miss Quesadilla and they were great friends from that day forward.
Lamont understands cats. When Casey snuck out onto the roof, he was less panicked than I, and just put out a saucer of milk for her, to which she promptly arrived out of the dark night. Hence one of her nicknames, Miss Exploradia.
Two weeks ago today, we put our Casey, at this point 18 years and two months old, to sleep.
Until the Tuesday of that week, she had been booking around competently, as was her way, but on Wednesday she crashed, issuing an odd meow and staggering a bit as she walked. She was drinking nonstop at the pet fountain and wrinkling her nose at her food dish (indicating nausea).
It seemed like a rapid-fire version of the kidney failure that gradually befell our sheltie Beau in his last year or so.
We were more businesslike than with prior pet deaths in losing Casey. Having been through the loss of Oliver, we were more prepared. We loaded Casey into a cardboard box lined with warm sweatpants, put a shovel and tarp in the trunk of the car, and drove her to Essex-Middle River Veterinary Center.
Lamont never wants to euthanize our pets, feeling that everything living wants to live, but even he acknowledged that Casey was not longer automatically purring on hearing his voice or being petted. I was aware that toxins were raging uncleansed by the kidneys in her body, and that she must be not only sleepy all the time but fairly uncomfortable, and didn't want to deal with her in end-stage pain or confusion.
She was brave and uncomplaining at the vet. We made a bed out of sweatpants on the examining table. Dr. Zulty was very kind. He gave her a sedative, and she was so compromised that her breaths slowed to once every 40 seconds or so, even prior to the final overdose of anesthetic. She, our oldest pet of all, had a simpler passing than either Beau or Oliver. We knew to leave by the back door of the veterinary center, and we drove off to bury her.
Lamont dug a grave for her six feet west of Oliver's. I wrapped her body in a sweatpants leg cut to her size to serve as a shroud. Lamont said as we laid her to rest, "I'm going to miss your white whiskers."
"I'm going to miss your lynx-tip ears," I said. Even no longer alive, her coat was a beautiful blend of tan, copper and brown as I laid her gently down and we each gave her some pieces of cat food for her journey to heaven.
"You were a very sweet cat, a good brave girl, no trouble even at the very end," I said.
Photos don't do Casey justice. She had a broad nose that was the prettiest brown shading of a lion. She was talkative, chirping and purring like a motorboat when fed or petted or upon seeing Lamont.
For a big cat who loved food, she was very mobile, and managed to book up our stairs when some of the treads were missing during an improvement project, while Oliver, Beau and Pierre, as well as most of the humans, were all stranded.
Casey was popular with our housemates and flirty with men in particular. She seemed to have imprinted on my brother Jim during her first eight years and Lamont for her last 10.
Our housemate Justin was also fond of her and wanted to take her to Hopkins parties to show her off. Our later housemate, Joanne, made a cast of her pawprint for posterity, and was amused by Casey's outgoing nature. She once gathered a group of nursing students in her room to prepare a demonstration poster, and Casey sat in the middle while they worked around her.
Lamont had a call-and-response with her:
(In deep voice) "Miss Quesa-dilla!"
"Squawk."
"Miss Quesa-dilla!"
"Squawk."
In her last days, she didn't squawk or purr in response, she was hollow eyed and weak in the neck.
The vets that had treated her over the years were sad to hear about her crash. Dr. Lynn Nesbitt of Essex Middle River had saved her life in 2003 when she got kitty anorexia (hepatic lipidosis), and she called leaving a heartfelt voicemail after her colleague Dr. Zulty euthanized Casey. We also got nice condolence cards from not only Essex Middle River but also Dr. Carine Klimentidis of Doc-Side Veterinary Center here in Upper Fells Point, who also helped with Casey's care in the final months when she was less able to be driven to Essex, and we would walk her, ever lighter as she fought thyroid and kidney issues, in our arms to Doc-Side.
Casey was adopted as a kitten from the SPCA of Anne Arundel County, as were Oliver and his fine replacement, Olivia. (Don't hesitate to get a kitten or cat from there, the staff and volunteers socialize them so much they behave more like affectionate dogs.)
We miss her but know she had a great, great run, making it past her kitty anorexia at age 12 and eventually to age 18.
As her back got more arthritic, it was necessary to put something by the litter box for when she missed the inside. The Group One Litter Welcome Mat
Here are some photos of Casey to keep her memory:
Casey in her favorite spot on the daybed in the living room. Our acquisition of Olivia in November 2005, the young female in the foreground who loved to harass Casey, made her life less picture perfect. Casey never cared for Oliver or Olivia or some kinds of cat food, leading me to label her Miss Persnickety.
Casey on the windowsill where she ate her meals. She was usually a hefty 11-pound cat but declined to only about 4-1/2 pounds in her final weeks.
A last photo of Casey shows her pretty lion nose, lynx-tip ears and white whiskers. She couldn't keep her body temperature warm, so I took her up in the sun on the roof deck the morning of Friday, May 9.
