Khaleesi was one of the few cats who I made an actual choice about getting (many of the others showed up and ended up staying… there’s another story building about that for later on). She and her brother, Bear, were born on June 21, 2017. Khaleesi’s first home with me was in an old Georgie Boy motor home since I was about to hit the road on a new adventure.
I taught her how to be on a harness while we were outdoors and she loved walking some of the trails I took her on. Her favorite outdoor activity seemed to be testing to see if I would catch her before she jumped into a pond of frigid water. Cleaning the snow out of her toe floof was a chore, but seeing how happy she was made it all worth it. Over the years, she became a silly girl who liked being picked up like a human toddler and would lay her head on my shoulder while I sat reading a book or watching something on the TV. When I napped she would curl up behind my knees, under the blanket, and would stay there even if my nap was over three hours.
There wasn’t a food, snack, or treat that she didn’t like while she was doing well.
When she wasn’t doing well, she wouldn’t eat anything unless I forced her to. Over the years I got a variety of diagnoses as to why she got sick. It started right before she went in for her spay surgery with vomiting and refusing food for several days. Then she got better and was spayed. After that, she would get sick every 9-13 months, with the longest period of “healthy” being 23 months. One vet suggested that her esophagus was too narrow for her to bring up hairballs and that they would stay in her stomach, eventually growing until she couldn’t hold any food. So, I cut her fur short, treated her daily with ground pumpkin seeds and Laxatone, and watched her carefully.
The last round started June 2025 and lasted until January 2026. That time she went from thirteen pounds to just under seven pounds and I was certain she wasn’t going to make it. But she did. She started eating again, gaining weight again, and playing with her favorite toys. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought that I’d have nearly a year before having to go through this again.
That wasn’t what happened, though. She started getting sick again on July 21 and I thought it was going to follow the same pattern. Only, this time there was a significant amount of blood in her vomit. Her esophagus couldn’t handle this again. I made an appointment and held her while she took her last breath. A week early? Maybe, but still better than a day late when she might have had a ruptured esophagus.
I’m still hurting a lot. I knew this was the choice I’d have to make for her, but I didn’t think it was going to be this soon.
Morrigan's Nest 