Hank the Female Cat

I want to tell you about Hank the Manx.

Seven years ago, we had just lost another cat. You have to understand that cats simply don’t last around our home. We live in a fairly rural area, and the coyotes tend to win the war against our feline friends, no matter how hard we try to keep them safe. But, because of other pests like gophers and moles, we like to keep a vicious hunter around.

When the last cat disappeared, one of the boys asked if we wanted a kitten because a friend had a litter. I somewhat reluctantly agreed thinking we needed a gopher-hunter but not really wanting another animal. One spring evening in 2017, this little kitten showed up at our house, courtesy of the boys’ friend.

I had no idea I was getting a Manx! If you don’t know what a Manx is, you might look it up. A Manx is a cat without a tail. It’s a special breed, and we had a number of Manx growing up. My dad had actually been talking about getting a Manx and had been looking for one. When the boys learned she was a Manx, they started calling her Hank the Manx–and it stuck! For seven years, we had a female cat named Hank!

The Manx tends to be very social, very personable. Hank is no exception. I’ve never known a cat to be as loving as Hank. Every morning, as soon as I would stir in bed, she was in my face licking my nose and purring. If you were sitting on the sofa, Hank would make her way to your chest and curl up, quickly going to sleep. Most cats are finicky, but not Hank. She was loving all the time.

Hank was also playful. We have several dogs, and despite the dogs dwarfing her in size, she could hold her own. Hank particularly enjoyed my oldest son’s mini-Aussie, who is much closer to her size. Hank would hide until Riley came around the corner, and then Hank would jump out and box her nose. It was one of the funniest things we had seen!

What I didn’t know until this weekend was how Hank had become an emotional support animal for Roy. Many of you may know that Roy is a veteran of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. Unfortunately, he saw many horrors during his time in the military, and he suffers from a level of PTSD. When he could feel the stress and anxiety rising within him, Hank would–without fail–crawl on Roy’s chest and start purring. He could almost instantaneously feel the anxiety leaving his body as she took her place–on his chest and in his heart.

Sadly, last week I noticed Hank didn’t seem to be herself. She was becoming withdrawn, lethargic, uninterested in food and water. Saturday, it was very obvious something was wrong. I was so hoping it was just a urinary tract infection, but in my heart I knew she was very sick. I took her over to my dad’s so he could give her some love, and then I went to the pet urgent care. The vet immediately noticed how white her tongue and gums were, an indication of severe anemia. The news was not good. There was a high likelihood that my sweet Hank was suffering from cancer, cancer that had created a slow decline that had gone unnoticed until the last few days when she could no longer fight it.

As hard as it was, I made the decision to let her go. I could not stand to see her suffer.

Roy was at a men’s event at church when I texted him to let him know we were losing our girl. His response was immediate: I’m on my way. I called to let him know he could stay at the event, but I could hear the emotion in his voice. He needed to say his goodbye.

Roy, my daughter, and I gathered in the vet clinic. We gave Hank all the love we could in those final moments. We surrounded her with love, and we let her go peacefully in our arms. The tears were abundant. The sobs uncontrollable at times. We let this precious member of our family quietly drift off to sleep, never to wake again.

The last few days have been really difficult. I miss her kisses every morning. I miss having her crawl on my chest every time I sit down. The dogs have wandered the house, looking in all of Hank’s hiding spaces, not understanding where she has gone. We find ourselves leaving the water dripping in the sink so she can get a drink. We still make sure we put food out of her reach so she doesn’t jump on the counter and eat it. There are so many reminders of Hank the Manx around our house, and we have truly lost a beloved member of our family.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
    he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. Psalm 34:18

I’ll be honest: I didn’t know losing an animal could be so heart-crushing. I love all my animals, but I don’t think it’s ever been this hard to lose one. I don’t think we truly understood how attached we were to this furry friend of ours. We have been emotionally crushed all weekend, mourning our loss. We’ve had several emotional weeks with various family illnesses, and this one has just pushed us to the edge emotionally. We are struggling to get our footing, to find the rejuvenation we need.

I keep reminding myself that Hank the female cat was an amazing, unexpected blessing. She provided so much love during her short life. She was so much more more than a cat! She was truly a friend, a family member, a gift from God.

Hank the female cat will be greatly missed. But, our lives are so much richer for having had her in our lives for seven precious years.