I've always been a cat lover and have had cats since I was very young. I had a cat named Shuby. She was as sweet as could be with her plaintive little meow. She was a fairly large cat: at one point she grew to be 17 pounds. We don't know how or by what, but she got bitten when she was 9 or 10. As the bite healed, we believe arthritis began to sink in.
It became harder and harder for her to walk. After awhile, she could no longer climb into her litter box. We could tell she was in pain, having all her weight on her sore, stiff joints. Finally, we made the decision to have her euthanized. It was a very sad day, when we finally had to give her up. There were many tears. That was 2003.
Since then, we've had other cats. However, I believe she has never entirely left. I can swear I've seen her all over the house, mainly in the bathroom and in the hallway where she loved to sit in life. She has also been spotted on the bed. Whenever I see her, though, it's always out of the corner of my eye and she's not there when I look directly.
It's comforting to know that my sweet little kitty is still around. I hope she knows that it was for the best that she was put to sleep. Somehow, I think she does. I think she's just hanging around because she didn't really get to live a full life here because of the arthritis and she wasn't quite ready to leave this earth yet. I can only guess, though.
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