Saying Goodbye to Patches

 On Saturday, we very suddenly and unexpectedly lost our little old lady cat Patches. She lived to the amazing age of 22, and it was an honour to be on of her humans. I really thought when the apocalypse came, all that would be left once the smoke cleared would be cockroaches, Nokia 3310s, and Patches.

Patches had been sat on my knee, then went charging off to attack my handbag, and went into the kitchen. She meowed in a way I had never heard her before, so I went to look for her assuming she was playing with something else. As I went into the kitchen she turned to look at me, but by spinning on her hip, which she had never done before. I asked her to come to me, and she tried to get up to come to me but it was clear her back legs weren't working. I called for Stu to get her cat carrier whilst ringing the emergency vets immediately. She didn't mind me touching her legs or hips, but we knew something was very wrong.

I was at the vets with her within 15 minutes, and sadly quite quickly the vet knew what was wrong and that there was nothing we could do. A blood clot had travelled to her lower half, destroying all circulation to her back legs and tail, and the lack of circulation was slowly spreading up her body. Her paws were freezing cold to touch, and the only option to stop her from having a very painful death, was to put her to sleep immediately. I cried as I held her in my arms as she fell asleep for the last time. I couldn't believe it was happening.

Patch was like my shadow. Always under my feet, always trying to have a cuddle, always with me. In the mornings we played the 'Getting Dressed Game', in which she sat on all the clothes I wanted to put on, and inbetween each item of clothing I had to barter with her for forehead kisses before I could have the next thing. She had 3 teeth and despite that, when Ashen was alive, she would try to steal his dog biscuits just to prove she was the boss in our house.

I had trained her to give boops, so if you leant towards her and made a kissy noise, she would rub her face on yours. I asked her for one last boop before she passed, and she happily obliged.

Once we ordered pizza and I was sat on the floor in our old front room, and I had saved the best slice for last. You know the good one, with the extra cheese on it, and as I moved it towards my mouth to take a bite, Patch leapt through the air and snatched the entire slice from my hand, running off outside with it so I couldn't take it off her. After that we had an agreement that I could give her a bit of cheese off every other slice so she wouldn't steal anymore pizza from me. Though if you left a pizza for even a second or didn't keep an eye on her, a little paw would suddenly appear over the edge of your pizza box to try nick slice before you knew what was happening.

Three years ago when Patch was 19, her nephew Stitch was bitten by a fox on the head, badly. They came home to us him with his bite wounds, and her missing fur and covered in scratches. The vet was baffled, foxes don't typically scratch, only bite, which meant that when Stitch was bitten, Patches had jumped in to attack the fox and save her nephew. All he has is a scar above his eyebrow to commemorate the time a 19 year old cat kicked a foxes arse to save him.

Going from 4 pets to 1 in the space of 9 months has been brutal. We lost Ashen in late 2019, and Lemmy earlier in lockdown to cancer. Can you even call yourself a cat lady if you only have 1 cat? I'm just glad I was able to be with Patch till the end, so she could be by my side, like she always was.

She was a bad ass old lady, fearsome and kitten like right to the end. Everyone who saw her assumed she was a kitten because she was so small and playful, but she was so mighty and loving. She had cuddles for everyone who asked, and I feel so lucky that she lived such a long life. I just wish it could have been longer.

My Lady Patchingdon of Adorables. My tiny lady. My Patch. God I'm going to miss you.

Love,

Kitty xxxx