Tasha Herron

April 8, 1994 – June 30, 2008
Tasha was our lovable grey tabby cat adopted from the Humane Society. We thought our long-haired calico Big Block needed company. We went to the shelter looking for a grey kitten. They were so full, they were doubling up some of the kittens, and they’d put the cutest white cat in with the grey tabby I wanted. Hmmm, we thought cats had to be from the same litter to get along well, yet they proved us wrong. When the door of the cage opened, Riley climbed on top of Bill’s head, and Tasha sat contently in my arms. When we let them into a small play cage, Riley climbed to the central platform while Tasha zoomed from side to side of the enclosure. She was so pent up with energy!

Tasha was always so easy to please. She loved to play with “da bird.” She loved a pink teaser so much that it ended up a nub on a stick. When not playing, she was our “kneader.” When we’d cuddle, she’d knead my upper arm as I surrounded her with it. I felt such unconditional love and trust. She also had a habit of finding you sitting down and mewing to pet her and then backing up just out of your reach and mewing again!
In her third year, we adopted a stray cat named Indy. He passed on from complications of diabetes we didn’t know he had at seven years old. That got us watching our other cats much more closely. We had blood work done on all of them, and we found out that Tasha was hyperthyroid.
Thankfully, we have the Cat Thyroid Centernearby where they could treat her with a single shot of radioactive iodine to cure her. After a couple days in isolation, we brought her home, and within a couple months, her thyroid values were normal. We support the Snuggles program at Hugs for Homeless Animals, and they published a story on their website about Tasha’s treatment, with photos. She was famous!

Along with the hyperthyroidism, we found the beginnings of chronic renal failure. It took awhile before we even needed to treat her with pills every day. Then it was a pill twice a day plus a liquid. Then another pill to help her upset tummy. From reading the CRF Center’s website, we learned how intertwined all the body’s systems are with the kidneys. Tasha tolerated that regimen well and was just as loving as before. She was one cat you could always pick up and hug. With time, she no longer kneaded very much. She didn’t even get into “her” position on the bed when we all turned out the light. She was declining, and we couldn’t stop it.
Her labs got worse, and we added subcutaneous fluids. We watched Tasha lose weight. Her empty skin hung down from her belly, and we could feel her backbone as we petted her. I was alarmed at how skinny she was getting. She’d been pudgy before, topping the scales at 15 lbs. Now she only weighed a smidge over 8 lbs.
We entered an acute crisis when she stopped eating and drinking. We had to give fluids every day and force feed a particular type of canned food. We’d soften her favorite hard food in water so she’d eat. We gave her bottled water so she’d drink. Still all the pills and liquid meds. She began isolating in a tiny cubby hole under the bathroom counter.
We wondered privately for days if this was the time we should let her go. The day we voiced it out loud, she told us to let her go. Our vet released her from her misery, held in our arms as she went to sleep for the last time. When we arrived home, Riley, Big Block, and Zora all wondered where she was. Riley had taken to sleeping in the hallway outside the bathroom to protect her. He kept looking in her cubby and all over the house. As a very intelligent and compassionate cat, I think he finally understood what we were saying … that she had gone to the Rainbow Bridge. We told him we wouldn’t leave him alone. After all, he’d lost his buddy Indy, and now he’d lost his first friend Tasha.

Author Carole Nelson Douglas, who writes the Midnight Louie mystery series, dedicated a short story to me and the “Fab Four.” We were all thrilled and read the story out loud together. Tasha will forever be honored in Carole’s book. Any mystery including cats that I have signed by the author, I ask that they include the “Fab 4” in my inscriptions. When Zora arrived in 2003, they became the “Fab 5.” When Indy passed in 2004, we fell back to the “Fab 4.” Today we are the “Fab 3” for the first time. It feels lonely.
I will make a scrapbook about Tasha and her life. We’ll include all those funny quirks about her so we don’t forget. She always had “toilet seat radar” and would show up in the bathroom as soon as you sat down and expected to be petted. She’d also earned the nicknames “Tashanator,” “Meowzer,” and “Tashakins.” She loved any kind of cheese and always knew when pizza arrived. She had the “Silent Meow” down cold. She could guilt you into giving her just about anything! She’d even put her head under Riley’s chin as if to say “go ahead and lick me now.” She’d nuzzle in under anyone eating something that looked better than what was in her bowl. When she peed in the litter box, she always left a “corner pee.”
I’ll fight to remember those fond memories, not the sad ones. After 14 years of mostly good memories, it will take a while to scrapbook and will help me grieve. I’ll stay especially close to Riley and take care of his sisters. Maybe we’ll even adopt a kitten after a while, but not grey. No cat could replace her. Rest in peace Tasha.

Sandie and Bill Herron
Parents to the Fab 3