Sunday, June 8, 2008
The Passing of Our Beloved Little Falstaffe
Dear All,
It has been over 24 hours since, our most beloved Falstaffe passed away. The picture you see was shot in October 2007 in her snack chair. We are devastated as you can imagine with her demise. It is very difficult to write anything. Bill wrote a great bio:
We are sadly reporting the passing of our dear little Falstaffe, daughter of Miranda। She passed on yesterday about 11:00 AM PDST with the assistance of a very professional veterinarian. Fortunately, for her, she was not ill or in pain more than a day or so, as death came quickly from a suspected breaking of a cancerous tumor or perhaps heart attack.
Staffie was a little despondent, but eating, drinking, etc।, normally Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday, Falstaffe was drinking water and ate some treats. We didn’t pick up on her not waking us at 4 or 5 AM, or telling us to go to bed that night at 10 PM, as was her habit. Yesterday morning, she refused her favorite food and it was apparent she was going down hill fast. Rick and I raced her to the San Francisco Veterinary Specialists as soon as we could find it. The eventual diagnosis was "complete metabolic breakdown"; the vet's prognosis was grim. Nothing would save her and he predicted she’d pass in great pain later in the day. We made the humane decision and had the Dr. assist her in her passing. Fortunately, it was not the torturous process her mother went through. She just went to sleep as we soothed and petted her beautiful coat, looking in her beautiful crossed eyes, and told her we loved her. As far as we know, her brother, Newton of San Jose, is the only family survivor.
Falstaffe, her sisters and her brother were born on Easter Sunday, April 20, 1990, to Miranda, via caesarian section after Miranda's valiant attempt to birth them naturally under the head of Rick and Bill's bed. She was the only one of the litter that had her mother’s beautiful Siamese traits; she was always a beautiful being. The attending vet said there were four girls and one boy. Bill, having not checked the sex of a kitten in 20 years, made an error, thinking that सत.affie was a little boy. She was larger, seemingly more developed then the rest of the kittens and had a Rabelaisian appetite and "table manners" that did not endure her to her siblings, thus the name Falstaff. It was about six weeks later that we discovered Bill's error, but by that time she was already answering to "Falstaff", so the masculine name was feminized.
She grew up in the big garden of our place on Hill Street, guardian of the garden (her territory), as opposed to the apartment, which was her mother’s realm। As an Aries cat, Falstaffe was very athletic: she ran or scampered like a monkey, where most of the time all her feet were off the ground, literally flying around and around the garden, into the house, driving her mother crazy and back again. Her mother was in fact very overbearing and lorded it over little Staffie. Rick and Bill did what they could to try to balance the relationship, but Falstaffe would, even after her mother’s death in 2005, remain in many ways a beta cat, only learning to assert herself very late in life.
Falstaffe was always very beautiful, very Siamese in markings and shape, never really aging। In fact one vet refused to believe she or her mother were the same cats his predecessor had attended to over the years. She was born so cross-eyed that a vet wished that there was such a thing as cat-glasses to correct her sight. Watching her hunt was sometimes humorous, but she was a successful hunter, having brought “live-catch” to the kitchen for “Bill the cook” to prepare and was rewarded for her efforts; unfortunately, she took to loving eating feathers. She was the kitchen cat, watching Bill cook and do chores from her chair and calling in alarm when the smoke got too thick and the “burnt offering to the gods” was going up in smoke. Or when the ceiling was about to collapse from a water-leak in the apartment above. Like a pointer-dog, she demanded your attention and pointed it out with her whole body; where she learned that, we could never figure out.
She finally had interior territory of her own in the house (beyond her kitchen chair and the foot of the bed, usually between Rick’s feet) when the four of us moved in 2000। Suddenly, she lost her beautiful big garden, but gained a big interior space that Mother-Miranda could not hope to control. She would do her "monkey-run" up and down the hall, make the circle of the living room, dining room and kitchen 'and back up the hall to the bedroom again; that is when we knew she was happy. That or she would help us take things down stairs or to the back yard; in fact she helped Rick on Monday, going up and down the stairs to see what he was doing.
Falstaffe was 18 years and two months old; according to one cat website that made her nearly 90 human years old. She lead a good, healthy life, only being really ill only once back in 1993. She had only a few gray hairs on her rump, but looked and acted like she was a five or six years old.
There are many tales of Falstaff's life we could share; these are just a few as some of you know। Most of you knew her as the Shy-One, the cat who didn’t really like people and crowds. Some of you loved her for her beauty, her polite personality. One or two knew her for the full-voiced volume of a siren, sometimes melodic singing, alarm clock, announcer, etc.
We pray that may she go on to a better place where she calls the shots as she wants, and if she chooses to…come back to her loving Rick and Bill in another form or in another life। We loved her so.
Thanks for listening।
Bill and Rick
It has been over 24 hours since, our most beloved Falstaffe passed away. The picture you see was shot in October 2007 in her snack chair. We are devastated as you can imagine with her demise. It is very difficult to write anything. Bill wrote a great bio:
We are sadly reporting the passing of our dear little Falstaffe, daughter of Miranda। She passed on yesterday about 11:00 AM PDST with the assistance of a very professional veterinarian. Fortunately, for her, she was not ill or in pain more than a day or so, as death came quickly from a suspected breaking of a cancerous tumor or perhaps heart attack.
Staffie was a little despondent, but eating, drinking, etc।, normally Wednesday and Thursday. On Friday, Falstaffe was drinking water and ate some treats. We didn’t pick up on her not waking us at 4 or 5 AM, or telling us to go to bed that night at 10 PM, as was her habit. Yesterday morning, she refused her favorite food and it was apparent she was going down hill fast. Rick and I raced her to the San Francisco Veterinary Specialists as soon as we could find it. The eventual diagnosis was "complete metabolic breakdown"; the vet's prognosis was grim. Nothing would save her and he predicted she’d pass in great pain later in the day. We made the humane decision and had the Dr. assist her in her passing. Fortunately, it was not the torturous process her mother went through. She just went to sleep as we soothed and petted her beautiful coat, looking in her beautiful crossed eyes, and told her we loved her. As far as we know, her brother, Newton of San Jose, is the only family survivor.
Falstaffe, her sisters and her brother were born on Easter Sunday, April 20, 1990, to Miranda, via caesarian section after Miranda's valiant attempt to birth them naturally under the head of Rick and Bill's bed. She was the only one of the litter that had her mother’s beautiful Siamese traits; she was always a beautiful being. The attending vet said there were four girls and one boy. Bill, having not checked the sex of a kitten in 20 years, made an error, thinking that सत.affie was a little boy. She was larger, seemingly more developed then the rest of the kittens and had a Rabelaisian appetite and "table manners" that did not endure her to her siblings, thus the name Falstaff. It was about six weeks later that we discovered Bill's error, but by that time she was already answering to "Falstaff", so the masculine name was feminized.
She grew up in the big garden of our place on Hill Street, guardian of the garden (her territory), as opposed to the apartment, which was her mother’s realm। As an Aries cat, Falstaffe was very athletic: she ran or scampered like a monkey, where most of the time all her feet were off the ground, literally flying around and around the garden, into the house, driving her mother crazy and back again. Her mother was in fact very overbearing and lorded it over little Staffie. Rick and Bill did what they could to try to balance the relationship, but Falstaffe would, even after her mother’s death in 2005, remain in many ways a beta cat, only learning to assert herself very late in life.
Falstaffe was always very beautiful, very Siamese in markings and shape, never really aging। In fact one vet refused to believe she or her mother were the same cats his predecessor had attended to over the years. She was born so cross-eyed that a vet wished that there was such a thing as cat-glasses to correct her sight. Watching her hunt was sometimes humorous, but she was a successful hunter, having brought “live-catch” to the kitchen for “Bill the cook” to prepare and was rewarded for her efforts; unfortunately, she took to loving eating feathers. She was the kitchen cat, watching Bill cook and do chores from her chair and calling in alarm when the smoke got too thick and the “burnt offering to the gods” was going up in smoke. Or when the ceiling was about to collapse from a water-leak in the apartment above. Like a pointer-dog, she demanded your attention and pointed it out with her whole body; where she learned that, we could never figure out.
She finally had interior territory of her own in the house (beyond her kitchen chair and the foot of the bed, usually between Rick’s feet) when the four of us moved in 2000। Suddenly, she lost her beautiful big garden, but gained a big interior space that Mother-Miranda could not hope to control. She would do her "monkey-run" up and down the hall, make the circle of the living room, dining room and kitchen 'and back up the hall to the bedroom again; that is when we knew she was happy. That or she would help us take things down stairs or to the back yard; in fact she helped Rick on Monday, going up and down the stairs to see what he was doing.
Falstaffe was 18 years and two months old; according to one cat website that made her nearly 90 human years old. She lead a good, healthy life, only being really ill only once back in 1993. She had only a few gray hairs on her rump, but looked and acted like she was a five or six years old.
There are many tales of Falstaff's life we could share; these are just a few as some of you know। Most of you knew her as the Shy-One, the cat who didn’t really like people and crowds. Some of you loved her for her beauty, her polite personality. One or two knew her for the full-voiced volume of a siren, sometimes melodic singing, alarm clock, announcer, etc.
We pray that may she go on to a better place where she calls the shots as she wants, and if she chooses to…come back to her loving Rick and Bill in another form or in another life। We loved her so.
Thanks for listening।
Bill and Rick
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