Tilly was especially adept at proving cats have nine lives, especially when we hadn’t yet learned not to let our cats outside. One day she got scared up a tree by a German shepherd. I didn’t realize this fact until walking onto our second story deck, noticing her high above next door, and then seeing the dog.
I quickly descended our stairs and stood on uneven ground at the base of said tree encouraging her to climb down. Holding a towel intended to cuddle and comfort her once safe on the ground, instead I watched horrified as she slipped and fell. In the blink of an eye I somehow turned the towel into a safety net and caught her without us tumbling down the slope.
Another time we were out having breakfast with my parents when an ominous feeling sent my husband racing home. He found Tilly downstairs with a deep throat slash and raced her to our veterinary clinic. Bless him, he likely saved her from bleeding out. To this day we don’t know what happened. All three had been outside the day before and came inside seeming fine, so perhaps Jezebel accidentally snagged her neck during a rough overnight wrestling bout. How even a razor sharp claw could cut through Tilly’s thick wooly coat… again, we have no clue, but something did.
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| Our sleepy old girl with slowly balding hindquarters... |
Tilly lived until the end of 2019 and died peacefully at home before our sorrowfully planned euthanasia. What amazes us to this day is that she ran to jump into my husband’s lap the night before passing away. Our loveable goof lived to twenty plus years of age, her health only failing in the last few months.
Is it not bittersweet when a pet passes like that? And isn’t it sad that my husband never experienced this before Tilly?
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