The last days of Puffin the cat April 22, 2025
Got Puffin’s ashes back from the vet yesterday when I brought one of our outside cats in for surgery.
Puffin was fading for a few weeks before she became to weak
to fight my getting her treatment, though even after she savagely bit my hand
as I tried to get her into the carrier, she was already on death’s door, one last
act of defiance before accepting fate.
She did not have a happy life, even though she was part of
the last batch of outside kittens we managed to collect while still living in our
old house, and because we had run out of names after having fostered so many feral
cats, she, her sister and her brother took on the names of Muffin, Puffin and
Onion.
Muffin was a long haired tiger colored cat, who outgoing
personality managed to get him adopted right away, while Puffin, a short haired
tiger cat and her sister, Onion, a black cat, were so unsociable they would not
come out of hiding except for meals, barely socializing with our long time
cats, except Ginger (an orange and white cat someone in the neighborhood had abandoned),
who Puffin loved, often cuddling with, and when cuddled allowed us to pet her
cautiously). But she and Onion had their own private language, and though Onion
warmed up to us eventually, she was often led astray by Puffin, who when in the
wrong mood actually plotted against us, several times both biting and
scratching us for no reason, although this eventually faded. Puffin became more
a recluse. We managed to get her shots as a kitten, but could not trap her to
get her fixed, something that later became a problem in the new house when we
acquired a male kitten, Junior, who managed as a very young age got Puffin pregnant
before we could get him fixed.
We knew Puffin would not take this condition well, but when we
managed to get her to the vet, the vet refused to abort them. She gave birth to
four dead kittens in our closet and one barely living kitten (Rocky Balboa)
still attached to her. We managed to get them to the vet for detachment, but
Puffin wanted no part of the kitten, and so he died. We buried them all in our
yard. Rocky Balboa in a small cedar box.
While Onion grew more affectionate over time, Puffin never
did, always moody, yet always came out for meals.
When she stopped, we knew she was in trouble. On my first attempt
to get her to the vet, she bit me so deeply I bled for a week. Only when she
was too weak to fight could be get her treatment. She had lost weight rapidly,
due to cancer, we later learned.
As said I got the ashes back yesterday with a small marker
with her name and her paw print on it. I’m going to bury her next to the
children she never wanted, and perhaps she will come to love them in the great
beyond.
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