A Tribute to Abbott the Cat

Abbott lounging on the couch

When I think of Abbott, the first thing that comes to mind is: spunky.

He was a fighter!

Abbott (along with his brother Buddy) was rescued from a parking lot when they were eight months old. They had somehow gotten separated from their mother. And it was Abbott's persistently loud meow that got them rescued.

Abbott was also loaded with tenacity, (probably related to his spunk).

He was no one's fool, to put it mildly.

Abbott enjoyed being petted, but when he had enough of it, he let me know - usually by meowing and putting his paw in-between my hand and his fur.

He was a mouser. He actually caught a chipmunk. Once. In the middle of the night. I heard a funny sort of squeak, sat up in bed and realized the sound was coming from Abbott's direction. He was sitting in his bed, about to eat a meal.

I pulled the dead chipmunk from Abbott's mouth, but only through a tug-of-war with deep guttural growls coming from him.

Abbott, until fairly recently, would bound up the steps after using the litter box in the basement. He couldn't wait to get back upstairs. 

He was equally quick about going to the spot in the kitchen where his food bowl was when it was mealtime.

Abbott in his Chewy box

He had a great appetite and usually gobbled up everything and anything I gave him. (Ironically, in the past year or so, when he was given special prescription food, he didn't really care for it). The meals he had over the past three months were Friskies' Salmon Dinner Pate and Mariner's Catch. This isn't a product endorsement, but you should have seen the shine on his fur because of the fish oil and the Omega-3 in it!

The biggest proof of Abbott's tenacity and spunk was in the way he took on lymphoma. He was diagnosed almost nine years ago by an emergency care vet. The doctor showed me the x-ray of Abbott's intestine and pointed to the tumor. I asked how long I could expect Abbott to live. The doctor told me that, on average, he could live about two years after being diagnosed, with treatment.

Abbott was about eight-and-a-half years old when he was diagnosed. Shortly afterward we went to Blue Pearl Vet and Dr. Swanson became his oncologist for the next (almost) nine years.

From what I understand, that's quite a record. And for the majority of that time, Abbott lived a full, happy life. (Thank you Dr. Swanson, and thank you, Dr. Dame, who was Abbott's regular vet).

Cats normally are creatures of habit. 

Abbott was too, but, then, at times, he liked to switch things up. 

He had his own bed in our bedroom, but shortly after Buddy passed away, Abbott started to sleep on my bed during the day. Then, after a few weeks, he took to sleeping in a Chewy box which was just the right size for him.

Abbott on the bookshelf

Towards the end of his long life, one of Abbott's favorite things to do (and mine!) was to stretch out with me on the couch. 

At evening time, when I put my legs up on the coffee table, he would jump up sit on them, and let me stroke his back. It didn't take long for Abbott to start purring. And this time, nestled between my legs, he enjoyed prolonged petting and would purr his approval. He purred so deeply that you could feel the reverberations along his rib cage!

There are so many lessons I learned from Abbott. Like, don't be quick to give up. Let others know how you are feeling. Keep life interesting by mixing it up a little. And when you need help, let someone know!

Rest In Peace Abbott, the Miracle Cat! Thank you, so much, for all the wonderful memories, which live on! 

If you'd like to read my tribute to Buddy, Abbott's brother, here it is.