Kronk, the Cat

This past week, I had to say goodbye to my cat, Kronk. I got him from the Orlando SPCA for my birthday in 2001, during my first marriage.

When I got him, he was a white kitten with a couple gray stripes on the end of his tail. Eventually he'd grow into an 18-pound über-cat of the silver tabby type, mostly gray with some darker stripes and the biggest blue eyes anyone had ever seen.

He was certainly an unusual cat. He loved food--but especially peanuts and cashews. He had a fondness for shoes and for leather.

During our time together, we went through a lot. I had to leave him behind when I left my first marriage, and I am willing to bet that his life during that time was incredibly unpleasant. Thankfully there was a happy ending to that story and he was reunited with me after my ex-husband did one great act of kindness to put him on a plane to come up and be with me (although I'm not sure that Kronk would have thought that flying on a plane was kindness...). He was my bestest roomie when I was living on my own in an itty bitty apartment in DC, and then joined up with my new husband's two cats to become a blended kitty home. He was a great watch-cat when my husband wasn't around, and was extremely protective of the house and everyone in it.

Kronk stayed with me during my pregnancy and all the fun that came with having a newborn. He took care of Lily as his own kitten, especially since she was smaller than him.

Over the past year, it was pretty clear he was sick, going down from about 18 pounds to 7 pounds. Although he was an absolute angel at home, when he went to the vet, he would become a psychotic beast, so savage that he had caution stickers all over his file and only the most skilled techs could be around him to get him his shots--any sort of examination was out of the question. I think it was his way of saying that he wanted to go on his own terms, with no medical intervention required.

So when it became clear that he was not eating, in pain, and even trying to physically leave the house to go off somewhere to die, I took him over to the vet and had him put to rest. He purred the whole time (something very unusual for a cat who hated vets), so I knew it was time for him to go. Still going to miss him, though.

Here's to you, Kronk!