Rest in Peace, Elmer

Elmer

How do you say goodbye to someone who has been part of your everyday life for nearly 14 years?
Elmer, our gorgeous, lovable, orange tabby has cancer.
We noticed his weight loss and as it accelerated his blood work showed likely leukemia.
There is no cure and treatment would only prolong his death.
Today we will have to say goodbye.
Thankfully our veterinarians share our philosophy on quality of life and will come to our house this evening to euthanize him.

Elmer joined our family as a tiny, adorable kitten from a rescue organization. As soon as I saw him I knew he was the one. I had never seen a kitten as intensely orange as this tiny tabby.
We adopted him along with a little black and white female we named Fern. They were about 7 weeks old.

Throughout the years, Elmer was always nearby, giving his calm approval or resigned acquiescence to everything from more kittens, to rabbits, and even a St. Bernard. He patiently withstood the kitten antics of Lester, a tiny dark tabby with a nubbin of a tail, who liked to leap on Elmer's back and bite his neck. Most of the time Elmer would just let Lester think he had won, then shrug his shoulders to dislodge the little bugger. I recall one time when Lester's leap was ill-timed. Elmer was about to jump through the cat door just as Lester landed on top of him. Both cats ended up stuck half-in and half-out, like Pooh Bear in Rabbit's doorway.

Elmer and Lester

In his later years, Elmer, who always slept next to me on a pillow expressly placed for his comfort, would drape himself across my head in the middle of the night. I would feel his cold little toe pads against my cheek as he purred himself to sleep, chin again my ear. Often there would be the tiniest puddle of drool left behind.
Elmer would often come downstairs in the early afternoon to let me know it was nap time. He would station himself on a couch armrest, and give me his "judgmental" look. Every time I would get up to go somewhere, he would mraow and try to lead me up the stairs.

Elmer liked his water fresh, and in the past couple of years would pester and pester until one of us would run the slightest trickle of water in the bathtub for him.

Elmer and Fannie

Elmer played a part in the daily lives of my children as well. He didn't like to be held or kissed, but was always ready to snuggle on a lap. He liked to play with toys, but usually only those with long strings. His favorite was the "swirly twirly fishy" - a small stuffed fish on an elastic string attached to a plastic fishing pole. He didn't want the fish, but would go after the string; even without claws he could always grab it. One had to be quick to keep him from biting the string in half.
His love of "twing" was a nuisance. His feline radar would always alert him to crocheting or knitting and he would show up, wait for just the right moment, and grab the yarn. There are few things as uncomfortable as knitting with wet yarn.

Elmer played an active role in our homeschooling adventures as well, becoming a character in whatever historical era we studied. Ancient Egypt? Elmer-ahten. Russian history? Yelmar Myeowstranovich. Norse mythology? Elmer the Red.
We often called him Elmer Pie and my husband dubbed him his "gorgeous orangeness."

Elmer was always dignified, except when catnip was involved. He was what we amusingly called a "mean nipper," as catnip brought out an aggressive side seldom seen otherwise.
As the founder of The Order of the Stripes, Elmer initiated Lester, Floyd, and Henry, though his own stripes remained the stripiest of all.

I worry about Fern when he is gone, as they have been together from the beginning, and Elmer is the only other cat she is comfortable with. He and Fern could usually be found on my bed lying in each others arms, purring. I wish I could explain to her what is happening and why he will no longer be with us.

Elmer and Fern

Cats often seem to choose a specific person to love and Elmer chose my son Zachary. Elmer was there for Zach through some of his worst anxiety and panic attacks, and I can't help but believe he somehow knew Zach needed him the most.
I can't adequately convey how much I will miss this lovely boy. I remind myself that he will be with us always, through photos and memories, and I know from experience that the heartache will slowly ease.
I will always love you my sweet Elmer and have truly been blessed to have you in my life.
Thank you for enriching us all with your sweet nature, calm presence, and gorgeous orangeness.
We will miss you terribly.