Have I ever told you about Toothless the cat?

We found Toothless stuck in the engine of a neighbor’s truck about three years ago during our nightly walk. We heard the tiny mews of a kitten’s distress call, and we raced back home to put up the dog and grab a cat carrier. Love questioned the carrier: “Why the carrier? Are we keeping it?” Yes. Why not?

Love got this scared and tiny kitten out of the truck with some difficulty, and we took it home — fur as black as the October night, kitten-blue eyes as wide as the full moon.

The children woke to this sweet kitten quarantined in our bathroom, and we all felt that new-in-love feeling right away. We made the vet appointments and confirmed this jet-black kitten was a girl, and a name was decided rather quickly: Toothless, from one of our favorite movies How to Train Your Dragon.

Toothless the cat stole our hearts immediately. Despite apparently coming from feral parents, she had no fear of people and took to the litter box with no issues. She didn’t mind the kids (then three, five, and seven) picking her up and carrying her around.

She was playful and sweet but didn’t mind enforcing her boundaries when needed. One such time came a few months after settling into our home and hearts. Our youngest was in his room for nap/quiet time and the house had its usual calm, peaceful air that always comes with that blessed afternoon respite. I was downstairs puttering around, and suddenly I hear a wail to beat all wails. I ran upstairs to find my three-year-old holding Toothless by the tail . . . and Toothless likewise holding onto his arm with her claws! Neither one had any major damage to show for the struggle, but they each learned their lessons.

We believed Toothless to come from a family of feral cats because of her striking resemblance to those cats we often found prowling the neighborhood. As she grew up and developed yellow-green eyes and the round face characteristic of those cats we often saw on our walks and through our windows, we were confident those cats must be related. We would say, “Hi Toothless’s cousin!” when we saw them.

In fact, the neighborhood cats looked so similar that one night we accidentally kept one of them inside the entire night. We have a bit of a problem with our door to the garage not latching, so sometimes it is open when we do not realize. It must have been one of those times that one of the feral cats wandered in. We thought it strange to see Toothless downstairs as she usually hangs out upstairs, but we didn’t give it a second thought until the next morning — when we found a stray cat hiding under our furniture! What an ordeal trying to get that very unaccustomed-to-humans cat back outside! Funny enough, the kids don’t recall that event with any clarity — but Love certainly does. He ended up snatching the cat up by the tail and throwing him out the front door! I don’t believe that was the most humane way to handle it, but I wasn’t the one getting attacked by a feral cat so I will reserve judgment on the method of extraction.

Toothless so easily became a fixture in our lives, it felt like we were meant to rescue her from that truck engine. She was the perfect companion for our active boys. She was an anchor through the loss of an elderly cat who passed away when Toothless was still young. She offered comfort and entertainment and always meowed for the boys loudly to let us know she missed them when they were gone.

It was a total shock to find her laying down one Friday night about three weeks ago, unwilling to move and breathing with difficulty. We took her to the vet as soon as we could, and after a day of IV fluids and observation she was released with a course of antibiotics and a diagnosis: pneumonia. We were so relieved to have her home, and we kept her comfortable in my eight-year-old’s bedroom as she recovered. She was unable to take the full course of antibiotics as she would not eat, despite being offered every kind of tempting treat we could think of. However, after stopping the meds and getting a few good meals, she seemed to be making a recovery. Her breathing was back to normal, her playfulness returned, and we kept the antibiotics in case anything else cropped up.

About a week ago, unsurprisingly, the breathing issue returned. We immediately tried to restart the antibiotics only to find that they were no good (the bottle advised discarding if there was discoloration, and there was). We called the vet and got different meds to try, hoping the different medication would be more tolerable for her, so she might eat with it. We gave her the daily dose, and she vomited it back up. The vet advised bringing her in the next day so they could administer the medication, so we made our plans to take her in early Wednesday morning before we went to a service event with our church.

The boys and I all went together believing this would be a quick stop. We petted the office’s orange tabby while the vet tech took Toothless to the back. A moment later, she was back to tell us she was not doing well, and to just sit tight while they try to help her. Not more than five minutes later, the veterinarian came out with tears in her eyes, shaking her head.

Toothless had so much fluid in her lungs that she could not clear her airway after aspirating on the medicine. They tried to give her oxygen, but it was too late.

We all got to see her one last time. They cleaned her up and wrapped her in a soft blue blanket, and she looked like she was sleeping with her eyes open. My older boys just looked at her and cried, while the youngest petted her one last time; he didn’t understand that she was gone until we got in the car to go home without her.

My heart breaks at the loss of our sweet Toothless, and it breaks double for the grief I cannot carry for my boys. They miss her so, so much.

In my last post, I focused on the highlight of our week and enjoyed recounting the immense blessings of having friends that span communities. But as I hit “publish”, I felt that all-too-familiar reality a writer feels of writing something true but incomplete. Yes, we had a wonderful birthday party on Saturday . . . And we said goodbye to Toothless on Wednesday.

The grief and the joy can coexist. The joy doesn’t overshadow the grief. I find it timely that we watched The Sheep Detectives as a family last weekend. Unlike the sheep who can forget on command, we can’t and we don’t want to forget Toothless. The pain of remembering her brings a sweetness to the joys we still get to experience here. Life is short, sometimes far too short.

RIP Toothless, ~July 2023 – July 15, 2026