Pet's Name: Lily
Breed: 1/2 Siamese
Location: Not Given
Pet's Story:

My beautiful friend is dead. Not from old age, not from falling asleep next to the heater and never waking up, but from something that could possibly have been prevented if faster steps were taken.

My Lily was 1/2 siamese with a sharp intelligence to match her age of 16 years. She was wise in the way of cats and of people too. She could tell a mouse from a gerbil, and would dispatch the former while guarding the latter until it was returned safely to its cage. She would demand breakfast in the door of the bathroom every morning and evening, for only she, eldest of our cats, was treated to wet food, a point that led to her demise.

She was no ordinary cat, being good at knowing when someone needed a cat to pet, and ear to listen. She had a calming aura and a warm heart. It is hard for me to think of her lively spirit being so still and so cold.

Her stay at the vets lasted four days as the vet tried to treat what he thought was a normal case of renal failure in an older cat even though I had explained that she had been fine up to three days before. She was glad to see me when I visited her, but was so sick she could barely lift her head. Her purr, like quiet thunder, was unabated, and she rested her head on my arm when ever I was there and her eyes seemed to say, "I am tired. I want to rest. Let me rest."

My beautiful girl. Her kidneys had shut down, and she was in renal failure. Her values were so high, some of them wouldn't even register properly. She knew, there at the end. I held her for almost an hour before I asked the Dr to come in. She hugged me with her head on my arm, and purred. I told her how much I loved her, and she told me that she craved rest and peace. Anyone could have seen that she was ready to go. She was patience incarnate. When I really started to fall apart, she fixed me with an eye, and momentarily snubbed me, as if to say, "Hold it together." So I talked to her a while longer, and she hugged me and I finally called the Dr in. It was over quickly. She stuck her tongue out when she died, but, unable to be undignified even in death, she convulsed twice, and pulled her tongue in. I sat with her for a long while after, and fell apart then. I fixed her tail neatly around her haunches as she liked to hold it, and eventually made my goodbye and went home. Death by kidney failure, or so we thought.

The announcement of the pet food recall didn't penetrate my shock until Sunday, and when I finally pulled myself together and checked the numbers of the remaining cans, I was stricken to find that they matched. The cans that I had bought three days before Lily started to act sick were among those being recalled due to some ingredient that was causing cats to go into renal failure. The symptoms matched Lily's exactly. Vomiting, refusal to eat, and lethargy.

Up to the point when she stopped eating, she had been a healthy if elderly cat. She had been eating well every morning and night, had actually been gaining weight, and seemed happy enough to go on for at least a few more years. The sudden vomiting that started Saturday night after she had eaten her fifth can was the first sign of her pending renal failure. She refused to eat more after that and quickly went down hill.

I miss her something fierce. She was much more than a cat, she was my best friend, a constant companion, and the most graceful and lady-like cat I have ever seen. Lovely Lady Lily-locks. I don't know what I am going to do without her gentle company. Who is going to purr me to sleep now. Who is going to come and make me feel better when I am sad? Who is going to demand food twice a day, and who am I going to spoil? We had been each other's friend for so long. Sixteen years.

I remember her as this tiny little kitten, tiny and white. I paid someone $5 for her from an ad in the newspaper. I wanted a white cat. She surprised me by being part siamese, and getting ear and tail markings, not to mention the light stripes on her legs, when she was about a year old. She had the softest fur, like a rabbit's, and chinablue eyes that reflected the light everytime I tried to take picture of her. Her purr was like quiet thunder, and she could meow in about 600 ways. Excellent mouser, she didn't try to kill my gerbils when they got out, but guarded them for me until I could get them.

The days seem darker ahead. My lovely girl. My Lily. My best friend.