My dear friend Sue and her husband David recently lost a beloved family member. Here are Sue’s memories of that last day of Pyewacket’s life.

Last night our 20+ year old Siamese Pyewacket (or Piggy as he was more affectionately known) passed on in my arms.  He was a lover and a fighter till the end.

While we were away for three weeks this past May I got daily reports about how he was cruising along just fine in his usual way. When we left we said goodbye and reminded him (and the others) we would be back as usual – he was use to our going and coming. We returned on June 1st to find him his usual tottering self.

Then just over a week ago (about a week after we returned) his typically slow eating became almost no eating. By Saturday when he stopped eating entirely and could no longer get himself all the way up the basement stairs (his last trip up on Friday night took him 10 minutes and he had to stop three times along the way) I started hand feeding him small amounts of food and water throughout the day in hopes that he might regain his strength in a few days. David helped by walking him and holding him up so he could get to the water, bed and litter (mostly) on his own.  For a bit it seemed that with good nutritional support and a little endless care he might spend some more time with us. He seemed to get better and then worse. It was clear he was not ready to leave and so we gave him the best support we could.

Yesterday when it became obvious that he might no longer be able to ever regain his strength I called a feline veterinarian I work with and asked him to come to our home to examined Pye (Piggy hated the vet office and I didn’t want him any more upset if it was going to be the last minutes of his life). Our veterinarian explained that Piggy’s heart was very weak and could no longer pump the blood he needed to have any real quality of life. And so with a heavy heart David and I kissed him goodbye and I held him as he was put to his final rest.

Piggy was a character. Not only was he an apple head Siamese (round and not pointy)  but he had the most beautiful chocolate point markings.

From the first time he arrived here in Hempstead, over a Christmas holiday in 1988, to find this was his new home, he brought his own unique view of the world to my life. And almost all who spent any time with him fell under the charming spell of his big blue eyes.

All he wanted was to be pet and fed. He would constantly walk under foot and inevitably be caught by a toe or two as he tried to get that endless attention he craved. In the last few years (after we saw the Producers’ Musical) we began to call him “Hold Me Touch Me” because no amount of petting, brushing or (until this last year) feeding was ever enough – he was a bottomless pit of need – but that pit also returned a endless supply of love.

In his younger days, when he was allowed outside, he loved to eat slugs, roam the neighborhood begging for food, and rolling around in the nastiest stuff he could find. He always looked like a dust cloud was trailing along with him. But through all the muck his big beautiful blue eyes always shown like a beacon. I have many memories of him as a young cat sitting with me in the garden as I tried to plant and weed around his ‘helping me’ – once I would finish planting a seedling he would mark each spot – watering as he went.

He also believed himself a great fighter and he did have the war cry if not the skill. He always led with the left side of his face. And so in those early years I cared for many abscesses cause by his desire to dominate the neighborhood. As he grew older his war cry became the signal that the younger ones were trying to gang up on him and it was usually enough to remind Sunny and Dante that he was not their personal chew toy. He even would nip them with the few teeth he still had – reminding them what a great warrior he was.

He had a voice unlike any other cat I have ever known – though all Siamese are known to bray – when he got a good wind up you could hear him from the basement up to the third floor bedrooms. I was often concerned neighbors might think we were hurting him as he told his stories to the world. These last few days he made very little noise and his loud motor like purring stopped.

I am glad to have had this last week to hold him. While I fed and sat with him and while we exercised him in an attempt to encourage a possible recovery we talked with him and let him know how much we did appreciate his being a part of our lives. I hope all that attention made him feel loved and that he knew we were honored to have him in our family (even though there were days…)

He was laid to rest next to Nicky (who we lost at 21+ in the Fall of 2006) and alongside Purdy and Timmy (all of whom he shared part of his life with here in Hempstead) in our yard  – the yard he loved to patrol and water.

I know he is on the other side with the rest of our gang (and his first pal and love Jeffrey) braying loudly as he tells them all his final tales. He and his voice will be missed and remembered in our home.