Farewell, Katy Purry

But as we’ve watched and waited anxiously for signs that Phe may be coming around, we never for a moment suspected that all was not well with another of our cats, Katy. She had been showing her age in recent months, but at 12 and a half years old still seemed healthy and happy. She too had experienced stomach issues during the pandemic — a condition we attributed to supply chain shortages that forced us to move away from her familiar favorite foods. And although she’d had some unfortunate accidents on our living room sofa when she didn’t or couldn’t make it to her litter box, we shrugged off the behavior as cats being cats. So concerned were we with Phe’s condition that it never occurred to us these could be symptoms in Katy of something much more ominous. 

Reality hit us suddenly on Oct. 14, a Friday. We had gone out to Streets of Brentwood that morning to return Ben’s old iPhone to the AT&T Store and followed that with lunch at a sandwich place nearby. When we got home around 2 p.m., we found Katy crouched on the floor of our bedroom, breathing heavily from her abdomen as if she had just run a marathon. “Is she purring?” Glenn asked, to which Roni responded that she thought that might be the case. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference with cats between purring and other activities. 

Katy seemed otherwise normal, still acknowledging us and our effort to interact with her, so we shrugged off the rapid breathing as perhaps she was just overheated and went about our day.

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I

T WAS A few hours later, as Glenn was working at the living room computer and Roni was doing some reading on the sofa, that Katy was sitting on top of the sofa near her cat tree as she often does. We noticed that she was still breathing heavily, and by now if it had merely been from exertion then she should have relaxed. Roni looked up her symptoms online and suddenly we became very concerned. 

Rapid breathing in cats can be indicative of many things, none of them good, and so the advice she read urged us to get Katy to a vet right away. It was around 6 p.m. on a Friday, too late for most clinics to be open, so we put in a call to VCA East Bay Veterinary Emergency in Antioch, which is just a couple of miles away from us. We dropped what we were doing, rounded up the dreaded cat carrier out of the garage, and wrestled Katy into it. She wasn’t at all happy with us. But we reassured her as we drove to the hospital that we’d make her feel better. 

The hospital staff was great and admitted us quickly when we arrived, even though we weren’t the only people there with pets waiting to be seen. Even before we were admitted to a waiting room the vet had already performed a quick exam on Katy, given her an ultrasound, and determined that her chest cavity was filled with fluid. Now we had to wait for her to drain the fluid and examine it to find out what we were up against. Initially that meant a $1,000 deposit and authorization to do whatever was necessary to get our kitty stabilized. This wasn’t going to be cheap. 

They told us it would be about half an hour wait, but it grew to more than 90 minutes as we sat anxiously in our assigned room and quietly discussed the situation between us, guessing at the course of treatment that would be prescribed. Would we have more X-rays, antibiotics and follow-up appointments? Would she need surgery? The unspoken possibility never really came up until the receptionist came in to have us sign some paperwork and asked if we preferred CPR or DNR for our cat — resuscitation or no resuscitation — should the need arise while she was on the operating table. We looked at each other a moment before answering DNR, which the clerk fully supported. Maybe this was much more dire than we thought. 

Our worst fears were confirmed when the doctor finally came in to give us an update. Katy was resting after having more than 400 milliliters of liquid drained from her chest — a massive amount, as the vet described it. It was a milky consistency that the vet put under a microscope for a better look, and what she found were clumps of large cells — “clinging together in rafts,” as she described it — and she was pessimistic at best that anything could be done. 

We were faced with a grim choice: take Katy home now that the fluid had been drained and she was comfortable with the likelihood we would have another emergency visit in the near future, or put her down. Tonight. 

Well, by now we had discussed this possibility at some length and hearing the vet’s prognosis for success with any treatment made the decision an easier one. Rather than run the risk that Katy would relapse over the weekend and we’d find ourselves right back here at the hospital, we chose to let her go. 

No one ever wants to play God. We certainly didn’t, but we felt it was the most humane thing to do if she had cancer. The last thing we wanted was for her to be in pain, and at least now we knew we’d made her comfortable. We asked if we could have a few minutes with her to say goodbye. The staff accommodated us and brought Katy back to us, wrapped in a blanket, so we could hold her and tell her we loved her. 

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ONI FELT BAD that Ben hadn’t come with us and didn’t know what was happening. He only knew that we had rushed out the door and expected to return in a couple of hours with our cat. But now Roni reached him by phone as he was about to head to sleep and filled him in. She offered for one of us to come get him so he could come to the hospital to say goodbye, but he decided it was too late and he needed to get his rest for work the following morning. We talked with him on the phone for a few minutes and promised to take some photos so there would be something to remember Katy by.

Now we sat with Katy in the exam room, cuddling with her until she decided she would rather get down and look around. But for the most part she chose to sit on the vinyl seat between us, mostly calm, clearly breathing easier, a bandage on her front leg where the IV had been attached. We each posed for some photos with her, but it was hard to hide our brimming eyes and ignore the lumps in our throats. Katy looked at us with her own saucer eyes and it was clear that she knew this wasn’t normal. We pet her and told her we loved her. 

When the clerk finally returned after allowing us all the time we wanted, she scooped Katy up in her arms and we followed them down the hall. She and Katy made a right turn through a swinging door into another room and that was the last we’d see of our cat. 

It was a relief when we returned to the reception area to find it dark and empty as we left the hospital with our little cage and let the tears flow. This was so hard because it was so unexpected. We thought we easily had another four or five years before we’d have to face this, but clearly someone else had other plans. 

We had already made arrangements for Katy to be cremated, and while it was tempting to put her ashes in a decorative box with a special inscription and laser-etched pawprint, we really don’t have room in the house for yet another memorial box. So we opted for a cardboard scattering tube that we plan to incorporate into a special memorial stone we will make for her once things quiet down. Glenn thinks he can put his knowledge of concrete work to good use and make something appropriate. We’ll see how this goes.

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I

T HAS BEEN two weeks since we said goodbye to Katy, and it still hasn’t totally hit us that she isn’t around anymore. We still glance over at her favorite spot at the top of the cat tree and imagine her sitting in it, gazing out at the living room with front legs crossed in her regal pose. We remember the many times she would curl up with us on the sofa on a cool evening, leaning into the warmth of our sweaters and blankets while we watched TV or read a book.

And we will always remember the day we brought her home from the animal shelter in Martinez. We had adopted her along with her cage mate, Rio, during a special promotion in which the shelter waived adoption fees. After getting them neutered, we brought them home with us on July 1, 2010 — Glenn’s birthday. We named her Katy Purry — a play on words after Katy Perry, the pop singer. It was the first time we had ever had a pair of new kittens at the same time, and we had a lot to learn about raising them up together. 

Sadly, we lost Rio to FIP in October 2011. It was a horrible demise and we swore never to let another of our cats suffer the way he had. So to that end, we were true to our word with Katy, but we have long wondered how those two would have grown together over the years. Katy turned out to be loving and independent, if not a bit aloof when it came to other cats. She was never a big fan of people, so if you did happen to get a glimpse of her on a visit to our home then it was likely because the bedroom door was closed and she had nowhere to hide. 

But she was incredibly brave when she wanted to be. We always had to laugh that she could stare down the vacuum cleaner even as the other cats would flee in terror the moment they heard us pull the beast out of its corner of the living room and pull out the plug

Katy loved all of us, but she seemed to have a special affinity for Glenn — Roni often called her his cat, even though she was the one who kept food bowls filled and provided nightly treats. In her prime, Katy would come under the covers and cuddle with Glenn at night, often sleeping beside him for hours — a behavior that mostly ceased when we brought home Phoenix and Phyre in 2017. 

And right up to the end of her days she loved to play. She was our mouser, speedy and eagle-eyed when it came to ferreting out wayward spiders, scorpions, earwigs and other insects that found their way into our house. We called her our little guard cat for good reason; even with doors closed, she had a sixth sense for when strangers were in the driveway or on the front porch. 

She never liked to be held, and if you tried her body would tense up and her paws would push away from your chest. But after a few years she became a decent lap cat who would seek you out on a cold winter night. She was an indoor cat from day one, and seldom did she even attempt to go outside. We wish all our cats would be that way. 

We received her ashes back from the animal hospital this past Friday in the small cardboard scattering tube along with a condolence card. We placed the tube on the cat tree for the time being, where we know Katy would have wanted to be if she could. The place in our hearts we held for her is now as empty as the physical space she shared in our home for more than a dozen years. But we know we did the right thing and hope she’ll forgive us. Wherever she is, we hope to meet her again one day on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

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ITH THE SORT of year this has been we could probably use a shot in the arm about now. We got one, as it were, Oct. 27 when we paid a visit to Kaiser Permanente in Antioch for another round of COVID booster vaccines. 

Unlike our previous three trips to receive our initial doses of the Pfizer shot and first booster from the county clinic because we couldn’t find an appointment with our own health care provider, this time we had no difficulty scheduling a time or going through the line. 

Kaiser by now has its vaccine clinic down to a science, proudly proclaiming on a banner in the lobby that they’ve administered 500,000 doses since the vaccines came out early last year. The whole process from check-in to discharge took about 15 minutes, and that included getting a flu shot afterward. We figured that we might as well endure all the pain at once, seeing as how we were already there, and while our arms may be a bit more sore as a result of the dual injections, at least now we feel ready to face the germ-spreading holidays. 

The good news is that Gov. Gavin Newsom has announced he is lifting our state’s emergency orders by February, so even though the virus will likely be with us for a long time to come, perhaps we won’t have the confusion over when and where to mask up or submit to Draconian testing measures imposed by individual businesses and government agencies. 

Speaking of which, Glenn had to experience a few of those measures on a recent business visit to San Francisco, where he and colleagues from his Local News Matters nonprofit gathered for an office retreat and training session. It is difficult to retreat from an office one doesn’t actually have, and since Glenn has always worked from home his Oct. 21 trip to the city felt more like an old-fashioned commute to a job, albeit one taken by public transportation. 

The day began with a 8 a.m. arrival at the Antioch BART station, followed by a 75-minute ride aboard a mostly uncrowded train to the Embarcadero station in San Francisco. From there, it was a six-block walk up Pine Street to 555 California Street, which despite its moniker actually has a main lobby located off of Pine. Hmmm. 

First order of the day was software training at the Microsoft corporate offices on one of the upper floors. Gaining entrance to Fort Knox probably would have been simpler. First Glenn had to check in with the guard in the lobby, who was supposed to have his name on an approved guest list that had been submitted by his boss. Glenn’s name wasn’t on the list, of course, and he hadn’t received the email containing the QR code required before the guard could wave him through. 

So the guard had to place a phone call to the Microsoft reception desk and Glenn had to get on the line and verify who he was, then he was emailed the necessary QR code which he presented to the guard along with his driver’s license to finally pass security muster. He rode the elevator to the appointed location where he was met by the receptionist and escorted to a second elevator that took them up another two floors to the conference center. Glenn commented to the receptionist that “I feel like I’m off to see the Wizard.” A feeble attempt at humor. 

The two-hour Microsoft training session was attended by about 24 people from Glenn’s company and marked the first time in more than three years he had seen any of them in person. Local News Matters is in a partnership with Microsoft for some funding support and the software the nonprofit uses. While it is true that Microsoft Teams has hundreds of useful features and is capable of many amazing things, starting a daylong retreat with two hours of computer training is a good way to tax one’s attention span. It came as a great relief when the clock finally struck noon and the attendees got an hour-long break before the next part of the program. 

At 1 p.m. the venue shifted from 555 California Street to the Cooley event center at Three Embarcadero Center, about a 20-minute walk through the city’s financial district. Again Glenn had to work his way through a security check that included an online health questionnaire to assess COVID vaccination status and related medical conditions. After presenting the guard with a confirmation email, ID and card showing vaccination history, Glenn and his colleagues rode up to the 20th floor where Cooley’s offices are located. 

Talk about to-die-for views. There aren’t many places in San Francisco where you can get that high above the city below and not have a $7 million mortgage payment. The conference center looks down upon the Embarcadero and Port of San Francisco. One can see Coit Tower, Alcatraz, and on this particular clear day across the Bay toward Oakland. That view made the entire conference worth it. 

The spacious conference center was up another flight of stairs on the 21st floor. Folks reconvened for an Asian-style lunch and then four hours of strategic planning and focus group discussions. It was all very intensive and made for a very long day for Glenn, who is a night owl by nature and not used to what amounted to 11 hours, door to door. It was good to put in a personal appearance for the boss, but he prefers the comfort of his desk chair in our dining room.

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CTOBER HISTORICALLY IS a time of celebrations, ranging from Halloween to giant beer festivals. Seeing as how we don’t live in Munich, Germany, we have to settle for the lesser Oktoberfest events closer to us.

On Oct. 8 we attended the Brentwood Oktoberfest held at City Park and spent a few hours parked in the shade of the picnic area listening to the polka band Alpine Sound, watching drunken contestants participate in a beer-run obstacle course, and seeing costumed pooches parade across the lawn for the doggy dress-up event. 

We aren’t much into beer, but we do love our brats. The Lockeford Sausage Co. had a pair of booths on Second Street selling our favorite Italian sausages with sauerkraut, and of course Roni couldn’t resist picking up a giant soft pretzel that we shared while watching the band.

On Oct. 22 we found ourselves at the Oaktober festival here in town. Roni was obligated to be there as she was running the information booth for Ironhouse Sanitary District, and while the crowd was somewhat smaller than we had seen in Brentwood, our local show still offered plenty of fun. 

There was a pooch parade, music and entertainment on the bandstand stage in Civic Park, and decorated pumpkins vying for prizes. Craft booths commingled with food and commercial displays along with politicians trying to register voters and promote their candidacies in the upcoming Nov. 8 midterms. 

Roni might have had one of the most popular attractions of the day — a bean bag toss activity that challenged kids to test their skill at hitting the bowl of a toddler-sized toilet. The game was meant to reinforce the message that only the “three P’s” (poop, pee and paper) should be flushed, and to that end the bean bags were emblazoned with stickers representing each of the P’s. More than a few kids made repeat trips to the Ironhouse booth, trying to best their score and collect more candy or other prize offerings.  

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O

CT. 16 FOUND us in Hayward to help celebrate Sean’s 47th birthday and meet a special guest being introduced to us for the first time — his new girlfriend, Chi. Glenn wore his Trilby hat for the occasion, for no other reason that he wanted to be different despite the curious looks from his family not used to the formality at our normally chill gatherings.

The occasion marked the first time our family has assembled in one place since last Christmas, and it included an appearance by Glenn’s dad who had flown up from Hemet for the weekend. We chowed down on Nation’s hamburgers and grilled cheese sandwiches, then did the birthday thing for Sean, which included a chocolate frosted angel food cake. 

After dinner it was time to help Sean open gifts. Our contribution to the cause was a 2-foot concrete statue of Homer Simpson that Glenn had made over the course of the past four months, painting it to resemble a graphic he’d found online of Homer nursing a mug of beer. 

Because the finished statue was heavy when attached to its base and quite bulky, we packaged it up in cardboard and surrounded by dozens of plastic grocery bags to cushion it on the drive to Hayward. It wasn’t the prettiest wrapping job, but it served the task and appears to have been a hit with the recipient, although perhaps less so than the Apple Watch Sean received as a gift from Chi. It looks like they are having a good time together as a couple, spending a lot of time traveling together recently, and we expect to get to know Chi better in the future. 

 

Glenn, Roni and Ben