On Wednesday Chad and I lied to Marigold. We told her we were taking her to a sleepover where she could have all the cigarette butts and queso she wanted. (Marigold loved smokers, gravitating to them when they visited our home to lick their fingers. She loved to find an ashtray or a cigarette butt to lick. Charming, huh? Marigold also loved queso. She missed it terribly when Chad and I went mostly vegan.) We actually took Marigold to our faithful veterinarian, and had her euthanized. She was nineteen and a half years old. That is an exceptionally long life for a Persian cat.
Marigold's use of her back legs declined steadily over the past two years. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I found a hard, swollen mass on half of her bottom jaw. I knew at that moment it was time to make the appointment to euthanize her. She went out dramatically with sass, yowling and hissing right up until the very end. She always hated trips to the veterinarian. We thought about hiring a mobile vet to euthanize Marigold in our home, but I suspected it would be traumatic for our other resident pets to witness.
I spent Thursday scrubbing her yucky orange sneeze marks off the walls and baseboards in her favorite spots. I cried a bit. I vacuumed her long fur from her spot on the sofa, her favorite corner of the living room rug and her cubby in the bottom of the bedroom closet. Chad and I will be lint-rolling her fur off of our clothes and furniture for many years to come. Marigold's fur seemingly regenerates and multiplies, and will serve as a reminder of her long and sassy life.
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| Marigold's tongue was usually sticking out at all of us |
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| Marigold after a bath |
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| Marigold's favorite spot on the sofa |
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| Marigold exploring the deck |
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| Marigold tried to recruit the tiny foster kittens as her minions |
