I named her after Elizabeth Moon’s character from one of my favorite novels and because she was a damaged little warrior. Just a tiny little black cat I picked up in the Iowa City animal shelter. According to the nice lady, she was scheduled to be destroyed in a few weeks. That was in Feburary 1995, when I moved into my first house and decided that Chloe needed a playmate.

Yesterday, I watched as Fluffy held her for the last time, the drugs going through Paks’ system and that final light fading from her eyes. Not a really fitting end for a warrior, but one that needed to happen.

It is hard putting an animal to sleep. I always wonder if I jumped the gun, if they had months or years to live, and in other side, I wonder if I did it soon enough. I’ve seen my share of people who put animals to sleep years before I felt they should have and other times when I wish someone did it years before it happened.

In this case, the vet said she showed signs of kidney failure. And then she started peeing in her sleep, without being able to control it. It wouldn’t quite be so bad, but she slept on top of Fluffy every night and we’ve been cleaning a lot of blankets in the last few weeks. Plus, the itching got worse and she stopped begging for food.

We feel it was the right thing.

Just not a very fun thing.

I already miss that little black cat. There are so many memories, like finding out she was actually deep brown and black tiger stripped, but only visible in bright sunlight, or walking her out on a leash in the backyard. I remember the good memories along with the bad. Like her screaming out when she couldn’t stop scratching her throat or her licking herself almost entirely bare for a few years because of a burn.

Fluffy and I decided not to replace her. Four animals is a bit too much to handle right now, and Fluffy took Paks’ death pretty hard. So, we’ll just have a cat-shaped hole in our lives for a little bit.

It was the right thing.

Still not fun.