Daisy May

 

‘Cat with dandelion’
- Daisy May surveying her kingdom, Autumn 2023

Some of you will already be aware that back in February we were faced with that awful decision, with which anybody whose household has ever included a non-human family member will be familiar - the weighing up of quality of life against the selfish desire to prolong the joy of having a beloved pet.

Regular readers will know that Daisy May came to us in 2022, at the ripe old age of 16 years. This little tortoiseshell cat had previously lived her entire life with a loving couple, the elderly parents of one of Kevin’s work colleagues. Sadly, both of Daisy’s humans unexpectedly passed away within a couple of months of each other, leaving their daughters with a dilemma - what to do with Daisy May. For a variety of reasons, neither daughter could take her in and the Cat Distribution System was activated, with a whisper reaching Kevin’s colleague that the Persen & Joy household would be an ideal landing place for this now-orphaned puss.

It was a bumpy start. For the first two or three days Daisy May refused all offers of food, water and affection, hiding under or behind various pieces of furniture in our living room. She didn’t wee, she didn’t poo (well, she wasn’t taking in any sustenance, so that makes sense). Poor little thing was so traumatised by being plunged into a new environment with people who were strangers. 

However, eventually, hunger and thirst forced Daisy to accept tidbits gently pushed towards her and she even started to slink out a few times each day, with her body low to the ground, to investigate the litter tray and her new surroundings.

Over the next month she gradually grew in confidence, exploring some of the house and garden, although she still insisted on sleeping behind or under furniture, where we placed cosy blankets for that purpose.

The classic Daisy May pose - legs crossed

Of course, over time, Daisy May became more affectionate and more trusting of us. Most of the time she would just sit, sphinx-like, on the sofa in quiet contemplation of her new kingdom. Daisy was not a lap cat; when plonked upon a lap she would politely decline, moving off rapidly. But she would consent to, and quite enjoyed, being picked up and cuddled. And she would even patiently perch in Kevin’s arms as I clipped her claws every couple of months, knowing there was a Lick-e-Lix treat in store as a reward.

We indulged her with a heated mat under her blanket on the sofa and spent a small fortune on finding food that was to her palate, only for her to decide she didn’t like it after all - usually just after we’d ordered a bulk lot because it was cheaper to buy it that way...

She’s the only cat we’ve ever met who sat with her legs crossed in that particular way - such a relaxed posture, and somehow regal too.

Unlike our beloved Sasja, whom I rescued from the RSPCA back in 1992 and who lived with us for a precious 14 years, Daisy was not a talker. We were lucky to get an occasional croaky, single-syllable half-miaow once every six months or so. 

The odds of this must be incredible, but some time after Daisy May came to live with us we discovered her birthday was the same as mine - 5 January.

Daisy’s first birthday as part of our household, in 2023.
She turned 17, while I was… slightly older!

About nine months ago Daisy May suddenly had a seizure one evening. It was a truly ghastly experience for her and for us, and we lived thereafter in fear of a repeat.

At 19 years old, our poor old girl already had a multitude of age-related health issues. A few months after she joined our household, blood tests revealed she had hyperthyroidism, which accounted for her continual weight loss. At worst she went down to just over 3kg, and we felt absurdly gratified in the following couple of years as we managed to keep it stable at about 3.4kg. Daisy's kidneys were also starting to fail, common in older cats. She lost her one remaining canine tooth 18 months ago, leaving just her ‘little teef’ and meaning she could no longer manage dry food; all wet food had to be the ‘in broth’ kind, and even then we used to mash it up for easier feeding. And of course the arthritis. Already stiff and wobbly when she arrived, this was getting progressively worse and various types of medication and pain relief seemed to have no impact.

So when the second seizure came after breakfast that morning in February, we weighed up Daisy’s quality of life against the trauma of living through further seizures. The decision was clear, though of course, heartbreaking for us.

Daisy was fascinated by our visiting badgers

Daisy was an unplanned addition to our household. I’ll be honest and say that despite us adoring her, the additional expense (*Ker-ching!* Those vet bills, that special food, etc) and impact on our ability to go away together were irksome. We wondered how we would manage our impending relocation to Ledbury. Daisy hated the car, even a 10-minute quick trip to the vet, and we were very worried about how she would react to yet another new environment. Friends tried to reassure us, saying that as long as we were there in the new house, she’d be OK, but I had my doubts. In the end, the second seizure removed that dilemma for us. 

Daisy May, preserving her modesty 🤣

A couple of months have now passed since we tearfully held Daisy as she was helped by the vet to slip away. Some days we still expect to see her little form on the sofa, eagerly awaiting her next treat. There is still the temptation to call out from the front door, ‘We’re home, Daisy!’ whenever we return from being out. But by now we are getting used to an empty house.

Daisy May’s ashes are preserved in this wooden vessel

Vale, little Daisykins. Although you were only with us for less than three years, we loved you so dearly.

Until next time,

- Maree  xo