Annie's Story
“Sometimes love does not have the most honourable beginnings, and the endings, the endings will break you in half. It’s everything in between we live for.” - Ann Patchett on losing pets
Annie was born in August 2008 to a litter of 12. I never did get her exact birth date, but I like to say it’s August 27th because that is my brother’s birthday and that annoys him.
I picked Annie from a chaotic Kijiji photo of 12 newly mobile kittens. She was a long-haired cat and quite small, so as a kitten she was a tiny fluff ball. Annie was my first indoor pet and I never thought to have a crate, so when I took her home for the first time, I left her free in the back seat of my car. She was totally freaked out and scaled the upholstery while I navigated our way to the pet store. She never ended up liking car rides.
Annie was an energetic kitten, and spent her first year terrorizing my roommate’s 12-year-old cat, Cooper, and 1-year-old Spaniel puppy, Drake. She loved to hide in places too small for the puppy and stick her paw out trying to get the dog to grab it. Paw out, paw in, paw out, paw in. They both loved that game. It eventually progressed to the backyard as Cooper was impressively street savvy and taught Annie how to be an outdoor cat. Though Annie never ventured far from the yard, she would eventually make her way outside the fence and stick her paw through to tease Drake who was sanctioned to the back yard - and paw through the fence game was born. Annie loved to play with Drake, and those two developed a special relationship. Drake took a liking to cleaning Annie’s ears, a tendency that continued when they would see each other years after they stopped living together. He was the only dog Annie ever let handle her.
Annie had a few favourite toys as a kitten. Honourable mentions go to the crinkly fish, a large stuffed dog, and any Q-tip dirty or clean. She would play with the Q-tips like children’s juggling sticks, throwing them into the air and batting them back and forth. One day when Cooper was quite obviously feeling sick, Annie was joyfully playing with her Q-tip when she spotted Cooper, sitting on his own in quiet misery. She gingerly approached him and laid her Q-tip on his back as a feel-better gift for a sick friend.
Annie’s pent up energy was a challenge as a young kitten. She would sprint up and down the hall, waking everyone in the house. We would get out of bed in the middle of the night to remove annoying crinkly fish from the midnight games. Annie would pull at the carpet under our doors trying to get into the bedrooms, or coax us out to play. It was during these years that Will met Annie and he was less than impressed with her kitten enthusiasm. However, Annie held the seniority trump card so they were going to have to figure it out.
Any door left open, Annie would venture inside. Once she got shut in our liquor cabinet and it took us quite a while to find her. She always meandered out like nothing happened.
It wasn’t long after that Annie and I moved in with Will. Unfortunately for Will, this brought on an explosion of allergies and we were doing all we could to try and make it easier on him. I first tried some simple yet ineffective anti-allergen pet wipes. We had a few attempts at bathing the poor cat which, surprisingly, she tolerated enough that no-one was hurt in the process. However, we all hated bath time so it didn’t last long. We settled on haircuts, which we did ourselves, turning our long hair domestic cat into a magical creature from a Dr. Seuss book.
Post haircut nap.
Both animals post haircut. Both cold. That’s why they are so close together.
If there was ever a cat that could be considered the life of the party it was Annie. Back in the day, Will and I frequently hosted our friends, and Annie was always happy to be part of it. Our friends liked to playfully tease Annie. You could often see Annie walking around after hours, wearing some kind of unique hat or covered in glow-sticks. A party guest once used her sweater to dress a bunch of bananas. It was all in good fun and Annie would faithfully show up for some cuddles from whomever was offering or happened to be passed out on her couch.
Annie was an oddly social cat, and didn’t appreciate independence the way some cats do. She was unimpressed when we would go away for the weekend. It didn’t matter which familiar face we would charge with her care, she was not happy with us. When she was younger she would defecate in our plants. As she got older she would make her resentment known through avoidance. She recognized when we were packing our bags and would try to escape through an open door. Though eventually she conceded that we weren’t going to let her escape and she would make her grievance known by going to one of her sun spots, avoiding us as we left the house. Will and I came to know call this place as ‘Annie’s protest spot.’
The Protest Spot
Annie loved being outside and became a fairly street savvy cat herself, and she loved to hunt. She would leave her catches on the front step like a child hanging their art on the fridge. This wasn’t our favourite habit, and Will would use a shovel to launch the late mouse into the trees, which Annie would promptly retrieve, and repeat. Once Annie brought a live bird into the house. I’m not sure why she thought this would be a good idea. She also once caught a baby rabbit. This was the worst. I was sitting in our living room when I heard muffled meows at the front door. I opened the door to let Annie inside, and she was carrying a thankfully still living baby rabbit. I hit my knees in tears. Annie dropped the bunny and swaggered into the house obviously proud of herself. I called Will bawling. ‘Annie caught a baby bunny!!!” “Is it still alive?” “YES AND I CAN’T CATCH IT!” As I tried to gather it and take it to safety, it hopped away. I like to think it survived and is now the rabbit that torments my garden.
Annie loved the summer heat. Even on the hottest days she would lay in the direct sun on the black shingles of the shed, or on the surprisingly hot steps of our deck. Hot summer nights were her favourite. It was always a chore to try and find her in mid-July before bed. She would ignore our calls, and if we found her she would bolt under the hedges or into the neighbour’s yard so she could spend the night on the prowl. I didn’t love the idea of her spending nights outside, but she did. In the morning she would be waiting by the door in anticipation, wide awake, hungry, and obviously excited about her overnight escapades. I would let her in and she would run straight to her food dish, then follow me around the house meowing. She was a VERY vocal cat.
Annie loved the heat, but she HATED the cold. She understood ‘Annie do you want to go outside?,’ the same way a dog does. She would skip along to the door and wait impatiently for you to open it. But the first snowfall of the season, when you opened the door and the ground was white, she was pissed. She would let out an angry cry and turn away in protest. She eventually would cave and venture outside for warmer winter days, but was never thrilled about it.
Like a spoiled child, Annie was thoroughly unimpressed with the addition of her little puppy brother, Stewart.
Already not impressed.
She was six when we first brought Stewart home, and quickly established herself as dominant. That wasn’t too hard with Stewart as he’s pretty sensitive. We thought it was best to give Annie her own space for opportunities to take breaks from Stewart, so Annie was granted her first bedroom, also known as my office. We equipped the room with a small couch, litter box, food, water, and a bed by the register, then blocked it off with a baby-gate with a cat door so Stew couldn’t get in. This worked like a charm and Annie became very protective of this space. She would sit inside the gate and taunt Stew from inside. If the gate was open and I was inside, I would occasionally invite Stew in for a sit on the couch. Annie did NOT approve of this. She would swipe at Stew on his way in, and growl at him when he jumped on the couch. He was visibly uncomfortable in this room, just the way Annie liked it, and he preferred just to avoid it altogether. Stew and Annie did eventually sort out their relationship and even played together, but always on Annie’s terms. If she was feeling it, she would sprint by him in an attempt get Stew fired up (which always worked) and hide behind a door in the bathroom. Then, as if from memory, a little paw would stick under the bottom of the door enticing him to ‘grab it’. Paw out, paw in. Stew didn’t catch onto this game as well as Drake did, so often I would step in and play with her.
It didn’t take long before Annie tried to claim Stew’s crate.
Stew and Annie were always concerned about each other. If one was out of the house for an unacceptable amount of time, the other would go searching. When reunited they would share a little sniff to check in and see if the other was ok. They didn’t cuddle the way some pet siblings do. They didn’t like sharing a blanket, however, they would tolerate it for ‘The Good Blanket’. This is a particularly soft blanket I received as a Christmas gift some years ago, and I purposely allocated it to myself, putting it away every time I was done using it so no pets could lay on it at their will. It was my TV watching blanket. However, the forbidden fruit was much coveted, and as soon as it emerged, both animals miraculously appeared, jumping onto the couch and capitalizing on the opportunity to cuddle with The Good Blanket. Annie curled in my arms and Stew curled in the crook of my legs. It is worth mentioning behind my knees was Annie’s original spot until Stew noticed the blanket combined with the shape of my legs made a very convenient bed. This spot was one of the few things Annie truly sacrificed for Stew.
We thought it was funny how the animals would pick up on each other’s habits. Annie started greeting us at the door when we came home the same way Stew did. They both started following Will to the bathroom when he was home all the time during the pandemic. Annie also learned to come for treats when Stew was getting a reward. She was cute about it though, and would save the end of her treat for him to finish off. It became such a ritual that Stew would wait in anticipation a few feet away while she ate part of her treat, looked at him, then walked away allowing him to dive-bomb in for the finish.
Annie picked up on Stew’s technique of asking for the door.
Annie developed a uniquely entertaining relationship with Will. Young at heart himself, he loved to find little games to play with Annie. They developed a modified game of squash. Annie defending the stairs as her side of the court, and Will throwing her favourite crinkly ball, bouncing it off the wall toward her. She would stop it from going by and bat it back. Will also discovered Annie had a hilarious tick. There was a certain note on the harmonica that made her crazy, and like a switch, she would launch an attack on his leg. He of course tested this theory by standing in one place, playing the note, watching her come running and just before she swiped at him he would stop. She would just walk away casually as if nothing happened. Then he would move to a different spot and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. It was amusing to watch those two. With Will’s creative mind he discovered things about Annie I would have never thought to try. She loved to scratch her lips on the end of his electric toothbrush and the peak of his hat, and you could often seem him crouching down to allow her to do so. He developed this unusual way to pet her. It was sort of a two handed Vulcan neck pinch looking massage lengthwise along her spine. She loved it, and would eventually flop to the ground purring she was so happy. I never attempted this as I would undoubtedly do it wrong. Annie really valued attention from Will - somehow they even wrote a song together (featured at the end of this blog). She would only nap on one of the four identical dinning room chairs, and that chair was Will’s.
Cuddling with Will.
Annie’s favourite hangout spot when Will works from home, the register next to his office set up.
Sleeping in Will’s mandolin case.
As Annie grew older her body predictably started to fail. We lowered her world to the floor as she could no longer jump very high. She had a few minor injuries. Once she was limping around for a few days. I hated seeing her struggle and decided I would try and intervene. I picked her up, held her paw and tried some simple physiotherapy tricks on her little kitty wrist. Her whole body relaxed, and she let out a sound of satisfied relief. I think I was as surprised as she was when I put her down and she was walking better. We were very lucky, despite a few minor booboos, Annie was a healthy cat.
Annie took a sudden decline the last two weeks of her life. She was sleeping more, even for a cat. She no longer asked for the door. She stopped playing stair squash with us. She was moving noticeably slower. The last few days she stopped eating and we took her into the vet. The news was bad, she had acute kidney failure with literally off the chart kidney numbers. Annie spent the next two days in emergency care trying to recover, but it made little difference to her kidney function. However, the IV fluids and pain meds allowed her enough stability to make it home for a short time. The next 36 hours were a gift we could not have predicted. We laid with her in her favourite spots. We sat outside in the sun and watched the birds. I slept with her on the couch.
Shortly after this photo was taken Annie had a seizure while we were lying there. I thought it was the end. She pulled through.
Her favourite neighbours were able to say their goodbyes.
This picture was taken by our neighbours of Annie hanging out with their cat, Sans-nom, outside their window.
Sometimes she was well enough to purr when she was cuddled, but she was fading fast. Getting her to eat was a challenge. She always loved a freshly opened can of wet food, eaten directly from the can, never off a plate. In the end I was opening a new can to encourage her to lick the top few morsels, then tossing the rest of the can in the trash only to open another a few hours later tying to get her to eat. Only once in these last few hours did she attempt to eat anything else. She heard Will giving Stew a treat and she hurried as well as she could to join. Will presented her favourite treat. She ate a tiny shaving, then walked away, leaving the rest for Stew one last time.
The morning of Annie’s last day with us.
She was so thin and so weak but persisted in climbing the stairs to her room to use the litter box. I tried putting other boxes on the main floor but she wouldn’t use them. We think her vision was gone. She was sticking her paw in the water dish to determine where the water level was at. Her eyes appeared clouded over, though her hearing remained acute. She listened to the direction of the birds. She acknowledged when you said her name. She knew you were talking to her.
Despite her oddly social tendencies for a cat, I was Annie’s person. Annie made a point of getting up with me in the mornings, no matter the hour. As soon as she heard me, she would jump off of whatever surface she was sleeping on and come to greet me. She would follow me around and paw at my leg until I picked her up for a cuddle. We developed a morning meditation practice together. I would sit in my usual place in her room and she would jump onto my my lap and settle in for some quiet time until the timer signalled we were finished. She would then hop off and carry on with her day. Annie loved these periodic moments of calm including laying with me in the hammock. My friend once took a picture of her waiting for me outside the bathroom. “I just thought you would like to know she does this,” he said as he showed me the picture of her sitting and starring intently at the door. She was also not shy to let me know if she was frustrated or angry with me. I would pick her up and she would turn her head away, deliberately avoiding eye contact. It would take a bit of encouragement but once her point was made she would have a change of heart, curling into my arms for a cuddle. Annie had a lovely way of showing affection, tucking her head into your body, or stretching out a paw to touch your face. It was a show of affection so deliberately simple and clear - one I am grateful to have experienced and will forever miss.
I still don’t quite understand how this song happened, but it remains one of my favourite Annie things. I never get tired of listening to it, though it now confuses the dog. This is Annie and Will’s song.
Special thanks to Dr. Ian Cameron and the staff at Westboro Animal Hospital for the excellent care. Your compassion during these last difficult days was invaluable to us, and we are extremely grateful you were the ones guiding us through.
Annie ~ August 27th, 2008 - April 5th, 2021