How I Saved my Siamese Cat

I will start this story by stating the fact that I (unfortunately) no longer own this cat.

So, on one wonderful summer day, I had decided to finally get a cat. I had been contemplating getting one for around 2 to 3 months now. I'm not too sure what stopped me, but something did. Anyways, lets start from the beginning of the day, shall we?

It was late July, 2014. I woke up and got my things ready for work. I worked an engineering job, If your wondering. After around 6-7 hours of work, I came home nice and relaxed on my couch, watching some sports. It was either football or base ball, I can't quite recall, but that's besides the point. After the game ended, I thought to myself "huh, maybe I'll finally get a cat." And, quite frankly, that is what I did. I got up and got ready to leave (put my shoes on and socks), grabbed my keys, and was ready to leave.

I decided to go to the pound, as it was closest to my house. I in, and was looking around (as when I asked where the cats were I was directed) for a ginger cat. After looking for around 5 minutes, I gave up (this is quite a big pound, I should mention). I just looked around until I found one I liked. Eventually, I saw a beautiful Siamese cat, just laying there.

I immediately said that I wanted that one, and he replied with a depressing remark. He said something among the lines of "Oh, are you sure you want that one? You'll have to take it to the hospital, because we were going to put her down, she has cancer." I was devastated. I saw that cat and I felt an immediate connection. May not have been mutual, but I felt it. I wasn't thinking and I said something along "oh I'll take it to the vet and see if they can do something about it, see if they can help." Long story short, I got the cat.

I was recalling what I said, and I did just that. I went to the vet and they said that the chemotherapy may not cure its cancer, but will slow it down, at least. I was heartbroken. Even despite this, I told the vet to do whatever they can to help. They said that they would be able to help, and so that's what they did.

All went well, and they reported to me that her cancer was cured! I was so happy to hear this. I was at a complete loss for words. After months of her being at the vet, I finally got to take her home. I don't have any words right now for how happy I was. I just. Was.

Fast forward a few years later (2019), and she was still up and running well. She liked to be outside, so I would let her outside for however long she wanted. She would always come back to the door at when she wanted in, and also always at night, if she were out late.

One night, she didn't. She never came back. I was scared. I was, uh. I was worried. She had always come back at night, but she hadn't this night. I went outside, and went to look for her. I had found her in my, uh. My backyard. I found her in my backyard. Just laying there. I had went to pick her up, and she was limp. She didn't move, breath, nothing. I was horrified. All the times and joys I had with this cat, and she died without me knowing. This is where I grew to have depression. I felt like I had nothing. Not. A. Thing. I blocked everyone and everything out of my life for about a year. It was the hardest time of my life. I didn't eat much, so I lost a lot of weight. It was devastating.

After a year or so, I started to feel better. I'm now currently okay, and living a happy life. However, to this day I still feel a bit depressed about is. Sometimes, I'll take breaks from everything when I'm feeling extra depressed. Overall, I'm fine. I'm not the best and not the worst. RIP Athena. Sorry for making this ending about me, I just thought I'd include it. I'm teary right now so I'll be heading out. Keep your heads up high and don't get focused on sad things. Just remember, things always get better. Trust me, I was there once. Peace, and have a good day.