We put Midnight to sleep this evening. She was a really good kitty, and it’s quite sad for us.
Midnight adopted us almost nine years ago when we moved into the house here in Baltimore. She was a nearly feral kitten back then, no more than six months old. We lured her with some milk, and slowly, ever so slowly, she started to trust us. She followed us around in the yard as we worked on the garden. She would jump up next to us when we sat on the porch. She would sneak her way into the house occasionally, but it would freak her out and she would soon run back outside. We gave her treats, and later when we realized her owners weren’t feeding her, starting leaving food out. Over the last year, I was even able to pick her up and she once or twice jumped up into our laps – for about two seconds.
This July, we came back from Cape Cod and Midnight hadn’t been seen for a few days. This was very unusual. T and I were sitting on the porch a few evenings later, and she crawled out of the bushes, her rear left leg mangled from being bitten by something, probably a dog.
Since then, we had been nursing her back to health, going to the vet, keeping her inside, trying to give her medicines. Her foot was healing nicely… but she had this odd cough. It kept getting worse. Friday, when T took her to the vet, they did an x-ray, and she had lots of fluid and spots in her lungs. Seems like it was either congestive heart failure brought on by thyroid disease, or lung cancer. Either way, not a good prognosis. Rather than opt for some sort of radical intervention which may not even help, we had her put down.