On December 30, 2001, right after Anya got so sick and had to go to the emergency vet, Tango got very, very ill. He was lying by the water bowl in the kitchen, drooling on himself. His breath smelled really bad. We bundled him up... he almost didn't fit in a medium-sized carrier, that should give you some idea of how big he was... and we brought him to the emergency vet. They did tests on him. I'm not too sure what they did, but I know the BUN and creatinine levels were bad. The vet thought that our boy had renal failure. We were stunned. We'd had such good luck with all of our babies and then all of a sudden, in a couple of days, two of them were very sick. Tango's body temperature was very low and the vet put him on a heating pad and then started him on IV fluids. We didn't understand this at all. Two different cats with two totally different sicknesses? It didn't make sense.
We petted and hugged Tango and told him how much we loved him. We were making plans to do Sub-Q fluids at home, make a change in diet, do whatever we needed to do to make him okay. We never thought that was the last time we would see him alive. We went home to get Sinjin and brought her back so she could give blood for Anya's transfusion, visited with Tango and Anya for a little while and then went back home. By this time I was completely exhausted. I went to lie down for a while. At 10:30 that night my husband came into the bedroom. He was broken up and crying. I don't even remember exactly what he said or if he said anything. I just remember screaming, "No!" and starting to sob. I knew immediately. I just knew. I took a sedative and got dressed and he and I went to visit with our boy. They had put him in one of the rooms and one of the vet techs was there waiting for us. Tango was lying on the towel we had brought him in with and he looked so still. I noticed he had a beauty mark... a little dark mark in his fur on the left side of his face. That was the first time I had noticed that. We cried and just stayed with him for a while. I remember my husband leaving the room and I could hear him talking to the tech. They were talking about cremation. I didn't want to leave Tango, but finally I stroked his fur one last time and pulled the towel over him. He was so cold, so still.
The vet said that they were doing an emergency procedure on a dog and Tango was sitting up in his cage watching them. He was awake and alert and seemed to be getting better. Then, all of a sudden, he just went into a siezure and died. It was over in the beat of a breaking heart.
I miss him so much, sometimes it's like he's still here with us. I hear a meow or see a shape or hear something and he's there, just for a minute. Just for a minute there's hope. We found out later through Raven's necropsy that what Tango died from was Feline Panleukopenia (Feline Distemper). We had no idea that this disease could be brought into our home on our shoes. We had no idea that our cats, safe and protected in our home (we had been so careful), could be in danger from this disease if they weren't vaccinated. We know now. But at what a price. Tango's story begins in July of 1992, you can see more about him in The Kittens. He was the biggest kitten in Wolf's three kitten litter and this should have clued us in to what a *huge* kitty he would be. He was named after Raymond "Ray" Tango in the 1989 Action/Comedy Tango & Cash, with Sylvester Stallone and Kurt Russell, one of our favorite movies. Tango was always the shy kitten. He was a gentle giant. When he was six-months-old we had him neutered and I guess what they say about having your male cats neutered at a young age is right. Tango grew and grew and grew. I think he topped out at around 18 pounds. He was a lap full, when he deigned to get on your lap. :) Tango loved to lie on his back on the floor. He would just lie there, as happy as he could be, with all four paws up in the air. He was a chowhound. :) I free-feed the furkids so there was always dry food around, but Tango (we sometimes called him "Tank" because he was so big :)) *loved* the wet food. If he wanted wet food he would go to an empty can and put one of his paws in it and drag it around. Maybe it wasn't a sign that he wanted food, though, because he would do this same thing with toys. Maybe it was a game to him. Walking backwards dragging a can or a toy mouse or a ball. He loved balls, especially the sparkle balls. And his face was so full of expression, you could just tell he was having fun. He was smart, too. He would come crawl into my lap... my big boy... and just flop over onto his side... when he wanted to be groomed. I'd groom him, brushing his soft fur over and over, and then, when it was all nice and shiny, I'd say, "Okay, baby, let's do the other side, Tank." and he'd turn over to let me get at his other side. He was such a big, beautiful, happy boy. He would have been ten years this year.
