Post #333809 by khan_tiki_mon on Thu, Sep 20, 2007 5:51 PM

It was a sad day today. I just came back from the vet where my cat was humanely euthanized. My last cat, Princess Wilhelmina (Willie for short), lived to be 18 years old. She was named for Prince William; they were born on the same day. When she died I was very sad and I said I didn't ever want another cat. About 7 years ago on my birthday I got a call at work from my wife. She had locked herself and our three children outside of the van with the keys inside and the engine running. How she managed that I don't know. They needed to be rescued. My kids at the time were 14, 12 and 10. They were calling from the SPCA. They had planned on getting me a kitten for my birthday. Of course the surprise was ruined but since I was there to open the van for them I got to pick out the kitten myself. I named her Prudence. I had always wanted to have a daughter named Prudence. As a child I loved the show "Nanny and the Professor". I thought Juliet Mills as the nanny was so beautiful and so sweet. Her character's name was Prudence. My wife said absolutely no, under no conditions, would our daughter be named Prudence. I did get a Prudence in my life, she just turned out to be feline. My daughter says if I had named her Prudence she never would have forgiven me. Prudence was an indoor cat. She never went outside. She was content to stay in the house. She was a one family cat. When we had company over she would disappear. After the visitors had left she'd just be suddenly sitting next to you. We used to feed her on the counter. She couldn't eat on the floor because the dog would steal her food. I never got tired of watching her jump up on the counter. It was so effortless. She'd be on the floor one minute and the next she'd be on the counter and it was like she'd always been there. I used to think to myself that if you filmed yourself standing on a table and then jumped backwards off the table and then showed the film in reverse you might look like my cat jumping up onto the counter. At night when I went to bed Prudence would race up the stairs in front of me and jump on the bed. She was a vocal cat. She pretty much demanded to be petted. I would scratch her and pet her until she'd had enough and then she would nip my arm to let me know we were through. In the morning she'd get into the tub and before you could take a shower you had to let some water drip out of the faucet so she could have a drink. She loved catching the drips from the faucet in the tub. When she was hungry she'd sit on the counter and bang her food bowl until you fed her. She loved playing with little rubber superballs, but only if no one was watching. At night you'd hear her in the hallway. She would carry the ball in her mouth to the top of the stairs. She'd drop the ball and let it bounce down the stairs. She made this throaty yowl as she chased the ball. If you came into the room when she was playing with one of her balls she would immediately stop and act like she had no interest in the ball at all. She was so good natured. Even when she'd gotten sick she was so sweet. At the end she was so weak she couldn't stand but she'd lift her head when she heard her name and her tail would start to move. My daughter, now 19, really took care of Prudence in her last days and made her feel safe and loved. My daughter, my yougest son Michael, and I were with Prudy when she passed. I'm going to miss that cat. The price of love is often grief.