Peek-A-Boo

When she was just a kitten, Peek-A-Boo was as rambunctious as ever.  Peeks, as I called her, would bat at the toilet paper in my bathroom until it was scattered all over the floor and separated into hundreds of pieces.  The baby frogs in the back yard never stood a chance next to her aggressive instincts and relentless determination.  Being our first real family pet, other than countless hamsters and a few rabbits, we wanted her to feel apart of the family.

When we adopted her from the pound, I was only three years old.  My brothers surely loved Peek-A-Boo, but I was usually the one giving her the most attention.  I never went anywhere without her.  I would even dress her up in doll clothes and put her in my stroller just so she could go on my daily walks with me.  Peeks eventually began following me all around the house from the crack of dawn until bedtime.  She would be sprawled out at the foot of my bed waiting for me to wake up.  During the day, she would watch TV with me, bat at the heads of my Barbies as I played house, and even play hide-and-go-seek with my brothers and I – that’s actually how she got her name, Peek-A-Boo.

As I grew older, and as Peeks grew older, things never changed.  Even when we moved to a larger house when I was in fourth grade and her “playground” grew exponentially, she still followed me around everywhere.  When I was in high school, she would always nuzzle her way under my blanket during cheerleading sleepovers in my basement, and sit with me as I did my homework.  I loved her so much.

I was on a school trip in Florida during March of my senior year in high school when I received a phone call that changed everything.  My mom calmly told me that Peek-A-Boo was no longer eating and was barely leaving the couch.  My heart sank to my toes and I was afraid I was going to lose my best friend.  I wanted to go home right then and there, but decided to stick out the rest of the trip.  The day I got home, my mom and I went to the vet with Peeks where we discovered she was in the beginning stages of kidney failure. 

From that day on, Peek-A-Boo’s condition deteriorated.  After countless doctors visits and within a few months, one entire kidney failed.  It was hard for me to come to terms with that fact that she was dying because she still did everything with me.  It took her longer to get up the stairs, but eventually she reached the top.  She didn’t run and chase rabbits, but she still sat outside as I played basketball.  I guess I just avoided the thought of her not being in my life anymore.

For the entire month leading up to my move to college, we were forced to give her fluids through an IV two times per day.  By this point, I had to carry her everywhere and place food right in front of her face in order for her to eat.  The vet, who was our close friend by this time, didn’t want to pressure me into making a decision, but politely told me that she might not make it to TCU’s October break.  Once again, I avoided the thought of her dying and moved to TCU.  Leaving her was hard, but I knew that I was only a short flight away from being home.

Two weeks into college, I received a call from my mom that I will never forget.  I was studying in my dorm room when my mom said, “Honey, it’s time to make a decision about Peek-A-Boo.  It just isn’t fair for her anymore.  Ever since you left she completely stopped eating and won’t leave your room.  It’s time.” 

I flew home the next weekend and said my goodbyes.  It was the most emotional few days of my life.  We put her to sleep on a Tuesday morning and buried her on our family farm that evening. 

Even to this day, I become emotional thinking about Peeks.  Life is not the same without her, but I know she is in a better place.

Oh...I failed to mention that she was probably that fattest cat you would have ever seen. 27 pounds at her heaviest! :)