This wasn’t something we expected. The Wife took our cat Lola to the vet for the cat’s monthly arthritis shot. I was busy teaching an Excel class for the day job. The Wife suspected something was wrong because Lola’s stomach was rock hard.

Just have them give her a look. I said that and forgot about it as I focused on my class. After all, outside of her arthritis, Lola wasn’t one of our cats that I worried about. Which was why The Wife’s next message shocked me.

They looked at her and it doesn’t look good. You may want to come down here.

Fluid in the abdomen and chest. Lots. Vet was pretty sure it was cancer, but the only way to find out was exploratory surgery – and even with that it was most likely untreatable. The Wife made a promise to herself that she would not make one of her cats suffer just to comfort herself – and it’s a sentiment I share. We talked and decided Lola suffered enough. Gods damn it, I hate when it’s time to make that decision. Especially when we weren’t expecting it. I snapped one last picture before we said goodbye.

The Wife told me that she got kitty Lola as a playmate for our dearly departed Titus – who was a kitty himself – so that Titus would leave her older cat Spike alone. Instead, baby Lola attached herself to Spike, which meant Titus was still free to cause havoc.

When I came in to the picture, Lola was less than pleased. I think it took me the better part of two years before she finally accepted me. It helped that I was one of the humans that fed her. Still, The Wife was very much her person. I was just there as a somewhat useful accessory.

Lola was a sassy cat with a croaky meow when one of the other cats got closer than she wanted. I’m going to miss hearing that. I’m going to miss seeing her get into it with Freya – who I think Lola never really forgave us for bringing into Ward Manor. I’m going to miss her dancing on the cat tree when she thought treats were incoming. In short, I’m going to miss Lola.