Penny was a funny little girl.  She was quite shy when she arrived and could invariably be found hiding in one of the lower cubbyholes in Suite C.  She was unobtrusive and easy to overlook until food arrived.

The appearance of wet food would inevitably bring her dashing out of her cubby, chattering away in hopes of getting a
plate of her own.  She always   got a plate, but she always looked surprised and would run in and out of the cubby several times before realizing it was OK to dig in.

Over the years, Penny came out of her shell some and spent more time outside of “her cubby.”  But she was still very quiet and unassuming and always overlooked by potential adopters.  But we never gave up and always hoped that she would find eventually her forever home.

Finally, after three years of waiting, a kindly woman came in  a few weeks ago and bonded with Penny.  She was very interested in adopting Penny, but wanted to sleep on it to make sure Penny was the right cat.

We were all so happy for Penny and fervently hoping that the adoption would go through.

The next day on the way in I received a call from Danielle, our Sanctuary Operations Manager, who was on the early shift that day.  She said that she was rushing Penny to a local vet.  It was too early for our vet or vet tech.

Danielle had walked into Suite C and found Penny flat out, drooling and breathing only with great difficulty.  I quickly went through Penny’s medical history in my mind looking for an explanation.  There was none.  Penny had never been sick a day in her life since arriving.

A short while later I was on the phone with the vet: x-rays showed that Penny’s abdomen and chest were filled with fluid, her blood pressure were too low to measure and she was beginning to have small seizures.

A quick discussion made it clear that Penny must have had a massive heart attack.  We agreed it was time to let her go and very soon, as she was suffering.  Danielle was with her as she passed on.

Heartbreak can’t begin to describe how I feel.  She was such a sweet, quiet little girl.  Never gave us a minute’s trouble.  I will miss her small face and sweet meows.  I hope she knows how much we loved her.

Rest in peace, baby girl.