Our beloved feline friend and wonderful family member, Charlie, passed away today at the North Georgia Emergency Animal Hospital following a period of declining health. My heart is breaking as I write those words. Charlie was one of those unique cats who seemed to know what we humans were thinking and feeling at various times. He knew when I was feeling sad or insecure and always was there to offer his comforting purr and a furry paw as he lay in my lap or curled up beside me at night. When my mother passed away only five months after my father's death, Charlie was a great comfort.
Charlie came to us in a magical way during the autumn of 2004. He walked into the yard of my friend Marie who had eight dogs at the time, and he ignored them all and went up to Marie and introduced himself as someone needing a home. I found out as time went on that Charlie never exhibited any kind of fear, not even of the vacuum cleaner. After Marie tried unsuccessfully for several days to locate his owner, who had obviously looked after him well, (he had been neutered and seemed to be in excellent health) Charlie came to live with us. He fit into the household just like an old shoe. When he first arrived, he took a self-guided tour of the house, sniffed around the toy box, the food and water bowls, and then promptly fell asleep on his new brother Saber's bed. Saber, being a tolerant fellow, just kept his distance.
Every person who came to the house was Charlie's best buddy, until the next one came along. He slept with us and often would go to sleep curled up beside me, but would awaken curled up beside my husband. He always saw laps as his own places in which to either catch a bit of shut-eye or to just sit and watch the world go by. Every morning during my shower, Charlie would come into the bathroom, wait patiently until he heard the water being turned off, and then he would jump into the shower to see what was going on. If my husband was still showering in his bathroom, Charlie would quickly run in there, again wait patiently, and then do the same thing.
Another unique thing our Charlie would do was scoop out the dry food from his dish and eat it from the food mat. My husband and I would look at each other and laugh when we heard the food dish being scrapped across the floor as we knew the crunching sound would immediately follow.
Charlie loved Fancy Feast's chunky chicken and their white meat chicken medleys. These foods enabled me to keep Charlie's meds going into him without fail as he ate the meds and food from a spoon. The only medicine he refused to take was a pain pill. He seemed to taste it through the chunky chicken and refused to even consider it. He loved belly rubs, baskets, boxes, catnip on his scratching pads and toys, and Christmas. He also loved to take a morning and evening "constitutional" down into the field below the house, moving slowly and deliberately, checking out what might be in the grass for his curious eyes and nose to discover, both going and coming.
Charlie had one white whisker and a bit of white fur on his chest, which we always thought looked like a bowtie against the rest of his black coat, thus making him seem to be so dignified. He was just a sweetheart of a pet.
In 2011, Charlie was diagnosed with a heart condition but he took his meds and lived normally. However, in the spring of 2015, Charlie had to have fluid drained away from his heart and the vet told us that he needed to take an additional medication, which helped remove the fluids but also impacted his kidneys. We were told the medication would cause him to drink a lot of water and pee a lot, and he did just that, but otherwise, he seemed to be on the mend and resumed his life.
This afternoon, his kidneys began to fail, and he was having difficulty breathing. Charlie had also developed arthritis in his back legs, which prevented his moving around comfortably, and he seemed to be in great distress, so we knew it was time. We traveled with him to the emergency animal hospital through Labor Day traffic, sad and disheartened, wishing that this day had never arrived.
At the hospital, Charlie received his wings from Dr. Richardson. He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge quickly and painlessly while we held him, wrapped in a soft blanket, in our arms and whispered words of love into his ears as our tears flowed freely.
Our Charlie will always be our dear sweet boy and his ashes will remain with us. We will decide what to do with them when we feel less sad. We will always miss him.
Charlie is survived by his siblings Saber and Sophie, canine sister Patches, his grieving Mom and Dad, and the many cousins who live with his Aunt Wanda. My husband's cousin Judith sent us a wonderful little book entitled "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney" by Judith Viorst in Charlie's memory. We also received sympathy cards from the emergency vet's office, from our local vet's office, and from several good friends who are cat lovers. Our local vet's card contained these words: "Perhaps the saddest loss of all is no longer being seen through such loving eyes."
Such true words!
Charlie came to us in a magical way during the autumn of 2004. He walked into the yard of my friend Marie who had eight dogs at the time, and he ignored them all and went up to Marie and introduced himself as someone needing a home. I found out as time went on that Charlie never exhibited any kind of fear, not even of the vacuum cleaner. After Marie tried unsuccessfully for several days to locate his owner, who had obviously looked after him well, (he had been neutered and seemed to be in excellent health) Charlie came to live with us. He fit into the household just like an old shoe. When he first arrived, he took a self-guided tour of the house, sniffed around the toy box, the food and water bowls, and then promptly fell asleep on his new brother Saber's bed. Saber, being a tolerant fellow, just kept his distance.
Every person who came to the house was Charlie's best buddy, until the next one came along. He slept with us and often would go to sleep curled up beside me, but would awaken curled up beside my husband. He always saw laps as his own places in which to either catch a bit of shut-eye or to just sit and watch the world go by. Every morning during my shower, Charlie would come into the bathroom, wait patiently until he heard the water being turned off, and then he would jump into the shower to see what was going on. If my husband was still showering in his bathroom, Charlie would quickly run in there, again wait patiently, and then do the same thing.
Another unique thing our Charlie would do was scoop out the dry food from his dish and eat it from the food mat. My husband and I would look at each other and laugh when we heard the food dish being scrapped across the floor as we knew the crunching sound would immediately follow.
Charlie loved Fancy Feast's chunky chicken and their white meat chicken medleys. These foods enabled me to keep Charlie's meds going into him without fail as he ate the meds and food from a spoon. The only medicine he refused to take was a pain pill. He seemed to taste it through the chunky chicken and refused to even consider it. He loved belly rubs, baskets, boxes, catnip on his scratching pads and toys, and Christmas. He also loved to take a morning and evening "constitutional" down into the field below the house, moving slowly and deliberately, checking out what might be in the grass for his curious eyes and nose to discover, both going and coming.
Charlie had one white whisker and a bit of white fur on his chest, which we always thought looked like a bowtie against the rest of his black coat, thus making him seem to be so dignified. He was just a sweetheart of a pet.
In 2011, Charlie was diagnosed with a heart condition but he took his meds and lived normally. However, in the spring of 2015, Charlie had to have fluid drained away from his heart and the vet told us that he needed to take an additional medication, which helped remove the fluids but also impacted his kidneys. We were told the medication would cause him to drink a lot of water and pee a lot, and he did just that, but otherwise, he seemed to be on the mend and resumed his life.
This afternoon, his kidneys began to fail, and he was having difficulty breathing. Charlie had also developed arthritis in his back legs, which prevented his moving around comfortably, and he seemed to be in great distress, so we knew it was time. We traveled with him to the emergency animal hospital through Labor Day traffic, sad and disheartened, wishing that this day had never arrived.
At the hospital, Charlie received his wings from Dr. Richardson. He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge quickly and painlessly while we held him, wrapped in a soft blanket, in our arms and whispered words of love into his ears as our tears flowed freely.
Our Charlie will always be our dear sweet boy and his ashes will remain with us. We will decide what to do with them when we feel less sad. We will always miss him.
Charlie is survived by his siblings Saber and Sophie, canine sister Patches, his grieving Mom and Dad, and the many cousins who live with his Aunt Wanda. My husband's cousin Judith sent us a wonderful little book entitled "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney" by Judith Viorst in Charlie's memory. We also received sympathy cards from the emergency vet's office, from our local vet's office, and from several good friends who are cat lovers. Our local vet's card contained these words: "Perhaps the saddest loss of all is no longer being seen through such loving eyes."
Such true words!
Our beloved feline friend and wonderful family member, Charlie, passed away today at the North Georgia Emergency Animal Hospital following a period of declining health. My heart is breaking as I write those words. Charlie was one of those unique cats who seemed to know what we humans were thinking and feeling at various times. He knew when I was feeling sad or insecure and always was there to offer his comforting purr and a furry paw as he lay in my lap or curled up beside me at night. When my mother passed away only five months after my father's death, Charlie was a great comfort.
Charlie came to us in a magical way during the autumn of 2004. He walked into the yard of my friend Marie who had eight dogs at the time, and he ignored them all and went up to Marie and introduced himself as someone needing a home. I found out as time went on that Charlie never exhibited any kind of fear, not even of the vacuum cleaner. After Marie tried unsuccessfully for several days to locate his owner, who had obviously looked after him well, (he had been neutered and seemed to be in excellent health) Charlie came to live with us. He fit into the household just like an old shoe. When he first arrived, he took a self-guided tour of the house, sniffed around the toy box, the food and water bowls, and then promptly fell asleep on his new brother Saber's bed. Saber, being a tolerant fellow, just kept his distance.
Every person who came to the house was Charlie's best buddy, until the next one came along. He slept with us and often would go to sleep curled up beside me, but would awaken curled up beside my husband. He always saw laps as his own places in which to either catch a bit of shut-eye or to just sit and watch the world go by. Every morning during my shower, Charlie would come into the bathroom, wait patiently until he heard the water being turned off, and then he would jump into the shower to see what was going on. If my husband was still showering in his bathroom, Charlie would quickly run in there, again wait patiently, and then do the same thing.
Another unique thing our Charlie would do was scoop out the dry food from his dish and eat it from the food mat. My husband and I would look at each other and laugh when we heard the food dish being scrapped across the floor as we knew the crunching sound would immediately follow.
Charlie loved Fancy Feast's chunky chicken and their white meat chicken medleys. These foods enabled me to keep Charlie's meds going into him without fail as he ate the meds and food from a spoon. The only medicine he refused to take was a pain pill. He seemed to taste it through the chunky chicken and refused to even consider it. He loved belly rubs, baskets, boxes, catnip on his scratching pads and toys, and Christmas. He also loved to take a morning and evening "constitutional" down into the field below the house, moving slowly and deliberately, checking out what might be in the grass for his curious eyes and nose to discover, both going and coming.
Charlie had one white whisker and a bit of white fur on his chest, which we always thought looked like a bowtie against the rest of his black coat, thus making him seem to be so dignified. He was just a sweetheart of a pet.
In 2011, Charlie was diagnosed with a heart condition but he took his meds and lived normally. However, in the spring of 2015, Charlie had to have fluid drained away from his heart and the vet told us that he needed to take an additional medication, which helped remove the fluids but also impacted his kidneys. We were told the medication would cause him to drink a lot of water and pee a lot, and he did just that, but otherwise, he seemed to be on the mend and resumed his life.
This afternoon, his kidneys began to fail, and he was having difficulty breathing. Charlie had also developed arthritis in his back legs, which prevented his moving around comfortably, and he seemed to be in great distress, so we knew it was time. We traveled with him to the emergency animal hospital through Labor Day traffic, sad and disheartened, wishing that this day had never arrived.
At the hospital, Charlie received his wings from Dr. Richardson. He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge quickly and painlessly while we held him, wrapped in a soft blanket, in our arms and whispered words of love into his ears as our tears flowed freely.
Our Charlie will always be our dear sweet boy and his ashes will remain with us. We will decide what to do with them when we feel less sad. We will always miss him.
Charlie is survived by his siblings Saber and Sophie, canine sister Patches, his grieving Mom and Dad, and the many cousins who live with his Aunt Wanda. My husband's cousin Judith sent us a wonderful little book entitled "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney" by Judith Viorst in Charlie's memory. We also received sympathy cards from the emergency vet's office, from our local vet's office, and from several good friends who are cat lovers. Our local vet's card contained these words: "Perhaps the saddest loss of all is no longer being seen through such loving eyes."
Such true words!
Charlie came to us in a magical way during the autumn of 2004. He walked into the yard of my friend Marie who had eight dogs at the time, and he ignored them all and went up to Marie and introduced himself as someone needing a home. I found out as time went on that Charlie never exhibited any kind of fear, not even of the vacuum cleaner. After Marie tried unsuccessfully for several days to locate his owner, who had obviously looked after him well, (he had been neutered and seemed to be in excellent health) Charlie came to live with us. He fit into the household just like an old shoe. When he first arrived, he took a self-guided tour of the house, sniffed around the toy box, the food and water bowls, and then promptly fell asleep on his new brother Saber's bed. Saber, being a tolerant fellow, just kept his distance.
Every person who came to the house was Charlie's best buddy, until the next one came along. He slept with us and often would go to sleep curled up beside me, but would awaken curled up beside my husband. He always saw laps as his own places in which to either catch a bit of shut-eye or to just sit and watch the world go by. Every morning during my shower, Charlie would come into the bathroom, wait patiently until he heard the water being turned off, and then he would jump into the shower to see what was going on. If my husband was still showering in his bathroom, Charlie would quickly run in there, again wait patiently, and then do the same thing.
Another unique thing our Charlie would do was scoop out the dry food from his dish and eat it from the food mat. My husband and I would look at each other and laugh when we heard the food dish being scrapped across the floor as we knew the crunching sound would immediately follow.
Charlie loved Fancy Feast's chunky chicken and their white meat chicken medleys. These foods enabled me to keep Charlie's meds going into him without fail as he ate the meds and food from a spoon. The only medicine he refused to take was a pain pill. He seemed to taste it through the chunky chicken and refused to even consider it. He loved belly rubs, baskets, boxes, catnip on his scratching pads and toys, and Christmas. He also loved to take a morning and evening "constitutional" down into the field below the house, moving slowly and deliberately, checking out what might be in the grass for his curious eyes and nose to discover, both going and coming.
Charlie had one white whisker and a bit of white fur on his chest, which we always thought looked like a bowtie against the rest of his black coat, thus making him seem to be so dignified. He was just a sweetheart of a pet.
In 2011, Charlie was diagnosed with a heart condition but he took his meds and lived normally. However, in the spring of 2015, Charlie had to have fluid drained away from his heart and the vet told us that he needed to take an additional medication, which helped remove the fluids but also impacted his kidneys. We were told the medication would cause him to drink a lot of water and pee a lot, and he did just that, but otherwise, he seemed to be on the mend and resumed his life.
This afternoon, his kidneys began to fail, and he was having difficulty breathing. Charlie had also developed arthritis in his back legs, which prevented his moving around comfortably, and he seemed to be in great distress, so we knew it was time. We traveled with him to the emergency animal hospital through Labor Day traffic, sad and disheartened, wishing that this day had never arrived.
At the hospital, Charlie received his wings from Dr. Richardson. He crossed over the Rainbow Bridge quickly and painlessly while we held him, wrapped in a soft blanket, in our arms and whispered words of love into his ears as our tears flowed freely.
Our Charlie will always be our dear sweet boy and his ashes will remain with us. We will decide what to do with them when we feel less sad. We will always miss him.
Charlie is survived by his siblings Saber and Sophie, canine sister Patches, his grieving Mom and Dad, and the many cousins who live with his Aunt Wanda. My husband's cousin Judith sent us a wonderful little book entitled "The Tenth Good Thing About Barney" by Judith Viorst in Charlie's memory. We also received sympathy cards from the emergency vet's office, from our local vet's office, and from several good friends who are cat lovers. Our local vet's card contained these words: "Perhaps the saddest loss of all is no longer being seen through such loving eyes."
Such true words!
Gravesite Details
Charlie's ashes are housed in a lovely flowered urn within our home.
