I Cried for Stacha
January 10, 2001 - 9:16:03 PM

Today my kitty Stacha passed away. She had been battling kidney disease for three months.

The first time I saw Stacha was when we went to the house of a lady my mom worked with who had a new litter of kittens. We picked Stacha out immediately because she had a cute moustache above her mouth. We named her Moustache, but that name quickly became adapted to Stacha. We later found out that the moustache was a result of eating too much, but the name stuck anyway.

The first night Stacha slept in our house my sister and I slept with her in the playroom. We borrowed a sleeping bag from our neighbor (since we only had one), and both slept a restless sleep to see if our new kitten would fall asleep too. In the middle of the night, Stacha peed on Karen's sleeping bag, but when we woke up in the morning she was curled up in a ball next to our heads.

At the age of one, Stacha gave birth to five kittens. We kept two of them, Lucky and Shady. Lucky later became one of my best friends. Stacha was a good mom. She moved her kittens to different spots in the house to keep them safe. After about a year, as a natural tendency, she began to disown her two children we kept and hissed and growled at them on a regular basis. Lucky and Shady were always afraid of their mother, even when she weighed a quarter of their weight.

The father of Stacha's litter still harrassed Stacha after we spayed her. He injured her tail, and we had him put to sleep as a result.

Stacha was always an outdoor cat. She was independent, but she kept a strong bond with us, especially with my sister.

In October of 2000, Stacha stopped washing herself and stopped eating. She stayed in the same spot in the backyard for a few days. We brought her to the vet, and she was diagnosed with chronic kidney failure. She stayed in the hospital for a week hooked up to an IV. When she came home, she was given two weeks to live. However, Stacha, being the brave, strong creature she's always been, lived much longer than estimated.

She waited until last weekend to get sick again. As if she were waiting for Karen to come home from college. With Karen living here, she could pass away.

Last night, due to her unhappiness the night before, we allowed Stacha to sleep in my room. In the middle of the night, she peed on my bed. I found it symbolic of her first night with us. That was when I knew today would be her last day on earth.

My mom called the vet this morning to ask about Stacha's condition. She scheduled an appointment for 4:30. My sister, my mom, and myself accompanied Stacha to the vet. The doctor took blood tests, and told us he'd call us with the results. We came home and had dinner. When the vet called, he said Stacha not only had become ill again as a result of her kidney disease, but had also acquired anemia.

After much discussion, we made the decision to end Stacha's suffering. Although Karen had doubts, when we passed Stacha from person to person in the doctor's office and Karen held her, she said she knew it was time.

We let Karen be alone with Stacha as she passed away. Then we came home and burried her next to her favorite tree in the backyard. Karen included her pillow and blanket Stacha loved, and a poem she had written about Stacha in her grave. I put a bouncy ball I bought for her this weekend in. We also included her collar.

I won't forget how Stacha frolocked like a kitten when a ball bounced in the entry hall, no matter how old she was. How she would jump on my lap when I was in front of the computer, no matter how busy I seemed to be. How she was never afraid to meow at us if something bothered her. How she brought two other wonderful cats into our life.

I hope Stacha has gone on to a better place. Her suffering has ended, and she is happy now.

Rest in peace, Sta-Booger.

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