Her Disappearing Act

Two years ago today, Ninja died. She was 10-years old. She was sick when she died and had been sick for much of 2022. Yes, she was a heavier kitty when 2022 started, weighing in at a robust and stout 20 pounds. At the time of her death, she weighed 18.

She would have turned 11 in February 2023, but it just wasn’t in the cards and she would never see that birthday.

Ninja had a recurring urinary tract infection that entire year. At the time of her death, it was believed that she may have had kidney problems and she might have even developed a case of diabetes. She had been exhibiting difficulty with getting to the litter box, so it was not unusual for her to go wherever she felt like it, which means that she would often urinate on the carpet. Thankfully perhaps, she would choose the same spot over and over again, so this means that only a certain part of the master bedroom would consistently smell like urine. Not surprisingly, I would get tired of having to clean up that urine, but that’s not one of those scents you want lingering. Interestingly, she didn’t seem to defecate on the carpet, though truth be told, I would have preferred to have cleaned up feces rather than urine.

Shortly after 5pm on 12/01/22, Ninja was euthanized and like that, she was gone.

I know that she was sick at the time, but that didn’t make the loss any easier to deal with. I struggled with it for about a week, that is, until I got her ashes in that nice little wooden box they put her in. In this regard, Ninja is still with me today, though just in a much lighter state.

Rest assured that I still miss her, but I know that she was in pain and likely would not have made it that much longer.

I hated to see her go, but I know that it was for the best. It had to be. She was sick and it was highly unlikely that she was going to get better.

Regardless of the circumstances that lead to her passing, I will always miss my Ninja.

Two years later, I still do.