Sorry for your loss, Garfie is the spit of our Tom, appropriately named Ginge (he was called Boyo, he never answered to it probably because he isn't Welsh, but will come running at Ginge!).View attachment 411485View attachment 411487I’ve been a lurker on this thread for a while without posting. About nine years ago next door got a ginger and white kitten called Garfield. Within weeks he was coming under the fence and Into our house to get away from the kids next door. Garfield eventually moved in permanently and we told the neighbours that Garfield was, in fact, female - and pregnant. Four beautiful kittens soon arrived and we kept the only female of the litter (along with Mum).
Unfortunately Garfield wouldn’t answer to anything else so she became Garfie instead. For the next eight years or so, she (and her daughter) ruled our lives with constant demands for food; to be let out; to be let back in again. The little scruff bag could also be very affectionate sleeping on my lap, and at other times completely ignoring us as if we didn’t exist (typical cat).
Last week Garfie went off her food. Even the usual Dreamies, and haddock from the chip shop, which would normally be devoured, were refused. She had her annual MOT last month and everything seemed to be fine. Over the week she became more lethargic, lost a little bit of weight but did not seem to be distressed or in pain. She did become a bit clingy.
We decided to monitor her over the weekend and go to the vet if she didn’t improve. This morning she was not herself, very lethargic. She purred when picked up and cuddled. The vet this morning diagnosed acute renal failure. The options were prolonged treatment with no real prospect of recovery, or euthanasia.
We always said that we would not allow any of our aminals to suffer. So Garfie left us, peacefully, at 10 o’clock this morning.
Why do the furry little bastards get under your skin so much? We’ve still got her daughter, Keena - who has never been without her mother around.
RIP Garfie. Sleep well.