A tribute to Snapshot

I had plans to post another in my ugly series Monday but I didn't end up doing much of anything productive that day because I had to put down my cat, Snapshot. She's been slowing down for a few months, but I thought that it was just a natural progression, considering her age and the fact that she's always weighed roughly the same as a honeydew melon. Turns out she was probably sick with cancer, though you wouldn't have known until the very end.

She was so tiny, even her tags looked massive on her.

I've known Snap since she was a baby, and had her for almost her whole life. Even as a miniature kitten (she was tiny even for a baby cat!) she was a destructive murder machine. I have vivid memories of my first encounter with her when she was a few weeks old and already terrorizing her brothers. She was an unstoppable force of speedy ferocity. During her life, no squeaky toy was left intact, no Lump was left un-tormented, and no shelf was safe from her tiny legs' ability to propel her to great heights.

Seen here in the midst of toy murder

I miss her so much, though I know that putting her down was the right thing for her, and that's what matters. She'd gotten to the point where she'd lost a lot of weight and could barely stand. She tried, making her way across the house here and there if she wanted to see me or to grab a snack (we were keeping water, food, and a litter box near her spot at the end, but sometimes the other cats would pilfer her sustenance) but she couldn't make it back once she'd reached her destination. That was no life for my formerly active murder-cat, and the vet was very clear that any treatment we might administer would, at best, give her "a good day here and there." I couldn't make her suffer anymore, so I made the hard decision to put her down. We were with her until the end, and she tried her best to be her old self for as long as she could, sassing the vet tech when it was time to take her temperature.

Snap and Lump as awkward babies. She had to grow into her face, tbh.

I've had Snap for almost my entire adult life and I'm having a hard time so far, which I know is to be expected. Most of our other cats didn't interact with her that much (or if they did, it was just her torturing them/chasing them around), so I don't think they know anything is different. Lucca knows, however, and has been sticking close to me for the last few days, comforting me where she can and just letting me know she's there where she can't. Martin realizes something is different, too, probably because I've had him for the same length of time as Lump and Snap. He's been down since we came home with an empty carrier, and he keeps trying to comfort me, but he's not very good at it.

Lump trying to intimidate Snap and her utterly not caring.

Lump, thank god, is an idiot. He's never been smart or active or aware so he's not affected by her passing. I know that sounds sad, but I think ignorance is bliss for Lump, and that's okay. I wouldn't want to lose him to depression before he's ready to naturally pass, so it's okay that he's a clueless dolt who just enjoys all the extra love he's been getting, rather than knowing it means something unfortunate.

Super-Puff, now soaring through the sky intimidating the sun into hiding behind the moon

I didn't realize until my ex-husband mentioned it, but Snap's passing coincided with the eclipse, and I think that is so fitting. She was a tiny thing who made a huge impact, and could bring darkness to any and all toys she came across. The one exception to her rule of total toy annihilation was her stash of Beanie Babies. Snap didn't have a maternal bone in her body, but she did like these stuffed kittens who were nearly half her size. She had a hilarious habit of carrying them around the house--always by the face--and screaming as she went. It's a good thing she was spayed because I know she would have been a horrible mother.



If you have pets, hug them tight, tell them you love them. If you have cats, give then treats and squeaky toys in honor of Puff.

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