On Friday, March 2, I did the thing that all pet owners dread, I put my beloved cat LePue to sleep.
P-U (as he was affectionately known) was born in October of 1985, the year the Chicago Bears made it into the Super Bowl. He was touchstone M’s kitty and lived with her until I acquired him in 1991.
One day I was sitting in the living room of a new apartment in what my then roommate "L" and I called the “money pit”. A very brazen mouse came out and stood in the middle of the room, as if he were introducing himself. I of course, being a total chick, started to scream. The mouse never moved. I reached for the phone and called my brother who lived a few blocks away. I begged, no actually ordered, him to come over and help me. He was amused, but like a brother should, came to my rescue. The mouse never moved – it just sat there and held me hostage until the doorbell rang. When I leaped from the couch to the floor, Mr. Mouse ran to the wall. When my brother came in, he grabbed a broom and got the mouse cornered behind the entertainment center. He tried unsuccessfully for over an hour to get the mouse but nothing worked. Then Mr. Mouse took off and ran into our kitchen. My brother told me to relax, as the mouse probably went out the same hole he came in.
That wasn’t going to work for me. I called M. She was then in the process of moving in with her now husband (then boyfriend) J and PU was living with her mom, as J was allergic. I asked if I could borrow him, because in PU’s heyday, he was the ultimate mouse catcher. M and her mom owned a Deli and would often take PU to it so he could chase away the pests. He was awesome…he caught as many as he could and would get rewarded with deli meats. Until the day he died, if you opened up a sandwich, he was right at your side begging for a piece of meat!
So that same night, I picked up PU and as the old story goes, I never gave him back. He became my cat and I allowed M to visit him!
He was a cool cat - black and white (hence the name – “Pepe LePue”) with an attitude like no other. I used to say all the time that if he could talk, his voice would sound like Barry White’s and his main statement would be “Feed me woman, and be quick about it”. When one of my nephews was a toddler, he couldn’t say LePue, and called him P-U. It stuck. From that day on, he was always known as PU. In his younger, wilder days, he loved to piss people off. When the Dick-Boy would sleep over, PU would be laying quietly in the bed with us and then completely unprovoked, bite the Dick-Boys feet. {Of course later on, I would say that cat was just instinctively smart – he knew what he was doing}. Once I brought home food from an Oktoberfest for DB and PU jumped up on the table and ate two, HUGE, bratwurst and a heaping helping of German Potato Salad, leaving only the kraut behind. He was a smart cat.
PU lived with L and I through our many apartments, through all our boyfriends, with me alone and finally when I moved back home prior to my father passing away.
Growing up, we were never allowed to have cats because my father and brothers were allergic. When I moved back in, my pops thought that as long as the cat stayed mostly in my room, he’d be ok. He was more than OK. I can’t tell you how many times I’d come home to find the cat sitting quietly in my father’s lap, as Pops stroked his back and PU purred. They became inseparable. Wherever my dad was, PU would be right behind him. After my dad died, for close to 6 months, PU would sit on his bed, or in his chair waiting for him to come home. I know that cat lost a bit of his spark when my dad didn’t return. He lost his favorite buddy.
When I got Sami (my Border Collie/Shepard mix), PU and her became friends fast. They’d lay next to each other and snooze, but also found time to aggravate the other. When Sami would walk past him, PU would reach out and swat her in the face. Sami would then get down, her butt in the air and tail wagging thinking he’s ready to play, then he’d get up and walk away, tail in the air and sneer on his face. Sami would just stand there and look at him with an amused expression on her face. But Sami would get even when PU would be lounging somewhere; she would run up to him and chase him through the house for no reason other than to amuse herself. Besides being his playmate, Sami was also his greatest protector. If he were outside in the yard and would be hiding, I would simply tell Sam to “find your kitty” and she would search him out and herd him home. When we got Modine (our Rottweiler), PU didn’t take to kindly to him. When he would get too close to him, Sami would get in between them and push PU with her nose away from Modine. Several times she actually fought with Modine if he started to chase PU. She thought she was PU’s ‘Mama Dog” and wouldn’t dream of backing down to a dog that outweighed her by 50 lbs.
PU always had problems. He would get urinary infections frequently (most male cats do) and I had to monitor his diet and get special litter. Then a few years ago, he almost died. His heart rate was dramatically high and he couldn’t digest any food. After being hospitalized for almost two weeks, I was allowed to bring him home. He’d have to have special heart and thyroid medication twice a day for the rest of his life. Not a problem. Whatever it took, I was determined to save him and I did.
This last year was rough on PU. I had him in the emergency vet several times because he needed enema’s. Imagine being woke up in the middle of the night, hearing howls of pain coming from your cat, rushing him, wrapped in a blanket to the 24 hour emergency vet only to find out that he simply needs Metamucil. I was relieved and a wee amused and carted myself off to the store for his ‘pooping meds’. That happened 4 times this past year. It stopped being amusing.
He was started to get worse. He refused to eat and went from a 15lb cat to almost 8. I tried everything, even practically force-feeding him at the end. Nothing worked. He just didn’t want the food. His teeth started to fall out and I would have to mush what food he would eat into a pulp. Sometimes, I’d have to open up 3 or 4 cans in order to find one that he’d try.
Although I couldn’t tell if he was or not, I didn’t want him to suffer and it seemed to me that he was. It was getting harder every day to look at him withering away and I knew I couldn’t take coming home one day and finding him dead. So I called the vet and we talked it over. He thought the best and most humane thing to do would be to put him down.
I was devastated, but knew it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t help but feel that I was a major creep for planning the day my cat would die, but I had too. I knew that it would have to be near a weekend, because I would be a blubbering mess for days. So Friday night it was. L went with me.
Poor PU had no idea what was coming. We kissed him and pet his tiny head. They gave him the first injection to relax him. After about 10 minutes he was in a dreamlike state. I kissed him goodbye again and told him what an awesome “fat cat” he was and how happy he always made me. I told him according to T, L’s boyfriend, “he would go to kitty heaven, where he could drink all the kitty martini’s he wanted and chase all the kitty babes”. I asked him to understand why I was doing this and forgive me for it. Then the vet administered the ‘main shot’.
I held him and kissed him and stroked his tiny head until his heart stopped. Then I held him for about 15 minutes after that. I didn’t want to let go.
I look around my house and it’s not the same. In the morning, I wake up and still think he’s going to be on the pillow next to me. I still worry when Modine bounds up the stairs, thinking he’ll scare the cat. When I get home in the evenings I think that I’ve got to feed him. Yesterday as I was clipping coupons I automatically clipped for cat food and litter. Sami still walks around my room, looking for him in all his hiding spots.
I know it’s going to take time to get used to the fact that he’s not around. I know eventually I’ll get over it and I’ll stop looking around for him. I know that eventually the tears will stop stinging my eyes when I think of him.
I just need to be patient with myself until my heart stops hurting. I miss my little fat cat PU.