This is a bad week to be a pet at our house!

Bodkay is now with the Doctor Jean, who said yesterday that it was time to put him down, because he was having seizures constantly. But then she couldn't do it! She asked if she could take him home with her and try some experimental procedures. She said she could very well overdose him on valium-- but I said that was okay, anyway, because the alternative is death. Either way, if there is some chance of him living, of course she can take him home. So she took him home last night, and I haven't heard from her since. This is for free, by the way. I don't know why she is not charging, but that's fine. I love her. Doctor Jean is forever on my Christmas list.

This is the second night Bodkay has spent with Doctor Jean. The first night, when he was initially terribly ill, we were actually in Iowa, and our friends watching the cat found him, almost dead. There was an actual trail of blood across our floor, to the front door, from where they carried Bodkay away and took him to the vet's. We don't know what happened! He is an indoor cat, of five or six years. What did he get into? And the other cat, Tigery, is fine. The night they brought Bodkay to Dr. Jean, there was what the newspaper called, "a monster storm running through." We saw evidence of it: every tree in town seems to have a limb fallen, and some of the trees are snapped in half entirely. Big, old trees. At our house, two buildings blew over and away, and a bee hive is tipped. Luckily, the sheep are fine.

So, in the midst of this crazy storm, our friends (who have a deathly ill grandmother at home) took Bodkay to the vet. Dr. Jean's clinic has no basement, so she then took Bodkay home with her and had him sleep on the bed next to her. The next day, we picked him up, and it looked like we nursed him back to health- he was jumping on the sink again! And then he started having these seizures, and they just kept getting worse and worse, until it was a constant seizure. Which brings us to yesterday, when I took Bodkay in to have him put down (at Dr. Jean's recommendation) and she couldn't do it. She stepped out into the hall for a moment, and I heard her say,

"I'm taking that kitty I can't give up on home with me."

"The little black one?" asked the person in the hall.

"No, the little orange one," said Dr. Jean. Apparently, this is a thing with her!

Still haven't heard back today, though. I called and she was on a house call.


We think the two Mallards survived, but we haven't seen them.

We woke up this morning the find three of the ducks, dead in the yard, and pieces of Goose (his heart and one wing). The two Mallards (who had just learned to fly) must have escaped, but I don't imagine they'll come back home, after witnessing the massacre. So yes, Goose, my favorite, is dead. And the three white ducks. We loved them so. Really. My daughter is absolutely devastated. I think the idiots just didn't go inside last night. They have an automatic door  and everything. I built them a perfectly secure building, that didn't blow away in the storm. And they didn't use it last night. The mistake was fatal. It was either raccoons or coyotes, most likely. I buried them by the coop.

Goose is dead. Long live Goose.

Update: Bodkay died today at around 2 PM. He seemed much better, and the vet left me a message on the answering machine that he was really improving. Then I called her and she said he just stopped breathing.

So. Damn. Seven pets gone in one day. Bodkay counts as ten geese, at least, in the emotional scale. And now who will Tigery cuddle with? Big Z says, "This is the worst day ever." While I'm complaining: It's hot as hell outside. Too hot to dig a hole and bury your favorite orange cat.

Bodkay is dead. Long live Bodkay. 


  1. This all makes me so sad. I'm so sorry!

  2. I feel for you. Remembering instances of tragic pet loss of my childhood. :(

  3. That is a tough week. I am sorry for your losses. I was hoping Bodkay would pull through, but it must have been too much for his nine lives.