Lana was a very vocal cat. She would meow loudly for attention, and follow me to and fro. She would perform an adorably acrobatic reach with her paw as well to solicit attention. If it was not given immediately, she would then jump on me (or try to at least reach my level), release some curt meows in rapid succession, then perform biscuits before lying down. Sometimes, the biscuits would hurt but Lana hated having her claws trimmed so I would only do so sparingly. When I had to trim her claws, she would exhibit extreme anxiety, hyperventilate, and always try to escape so I would cradle her in my arms, gently kiss her head, and reassure her before I trimmed each claw. I'll never forget gently holding her when she was suffering in heat prior to her spay surgery, which had been delayed because of her heart condition. She was also a loud purrer, which I enjoyed eliciting through head scratches and petting. She particularly liked her ears being played with. She was extremely affectionate for a cat that had clearly been through a lot, always seeking to lay on or near me. It was during these times that she seemed the most content; it was almost as if she was smiling when I looked at her face. However, she didn't like to be constrained and would always seek to escape when I would hug or hold her. Perhaps, it was related to some past trauma as her history up to the age of 2 was unknown to the animal shelter I adopted her from. She would always let out a high pitched meow whenever I was about to pet her because she didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but then would calm down and start purring as I pet her. One time, I managed to sneak up behind her and pet her; she let out a surprised meow. She would tolerate me kissing her head repeatedly and would never meet my eye when I got close to her face. Sometimes, she would lick me after grooming herself. My favorite was when she licked my head for almost 30 minutes when my mom visited me towards the end of medical school, or when she licked my chest after I went to the gym. She also enjoyed exploring dark spaces whether it be a cabinet, drawer, cardboard, box, or couch crevice. Sometimes, she would get stuck and need to be carefully extricated. One of her most lovable acts was to briefly roll on her back, exposing her abdomen, if she was pet or shown attention in just the right way. I enjoyed using a microdermic needle hair brush on Lana because it smoothed her coat so well and she simply loved it.

When I had to move after medical school, Lana became scared as I carried her to my packed car. She was leaving her home of 1.5 years and so she jumped out of my arms and hid underneath another car. She let out a loud meow as I extricated her. As we started driving, Lana began to pant out of stress and my mom held her in front of the fan to cool her down. Over time, she slowly calmed down. Lana, I'm so sorry I made you go through that; it must have been very traumatic for you. But, she quickly settled down in my new apartment.

During my intern year, I spent most of my time at the hospital so when I came home Lana would demand attention. She would meow loudly and even jump so high that her head would reach my hand and she received some form of touch or pet.

Lana unfortunately had a condition called hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy which I later came to learn is the number one cause of congestive heart failure in cats. While I knew it would shorten her lifespan, I did not realize to what extent. I gave her her atenolol nightly, which she did not enjoy, to improve the output from her left ventricle. I wanted her to learn more about the world so I used to let her go outside under my supervision. However, one day, she suddenly ran outside way into the brush and woods forcing me to follow and capture her as I was scared for her safety if I couldn't return her to my apartment. I had to hold onto her very tightly as I pressed through the thick brush and she writhed around before escaping my arms and returning to our apartment. I broke down when I got back home and in anger I tossed her halfway across my living room causing her to bump into the edge of a couch. We quickly reconciled but a mere two weeks later, she did not greet me when I came home from work. The next day, she could not breathe and I rushed her to a veterinarian who found she had a bloody pericardial effusion and little cardiac output due to marked concentric hypertrophy. I asked the veterinarian to perform a pericardiocentesis to alleviate her respiratory distress, which was successful. I took her home whereupon she was not herself. She wouldn't eat or drink and I had to now give her multiple heart failure pills; she squealed as forced her to swallow them. Lana, I'm sorry I made you take those pills; I wanted to protect your heart. I wanted to spend more time with her to take care of her but I was going to start my inpatient medicine rotation shortly and was forced to study whilst keeping a close eye on her. I once called to her, and she tried to come to me but after a couple steps couldn't because it was too much for her. She suddenly deteriorated two days later. The pericardial effusion had reaccumulated and she could not breathe so I put her down to end her suffering. I'll never forget how she tried to get away from the lethal injection as it was administered. Her eyes went askew, she stopped breathing, and finally her heart stopped. I had my family on FaceTime to say goodbye. The veterinarians assured me that she died because of congestive heart failure, but I cannot help but feel I caused her death by holding her so tightly then tossing her into the couch. They never got an x-ray to see if she had fractured any ribs.

Lana had no say in whether she was to be put down, and had to experience the death process without any control. Lana, I am so very sorry that you went through that and that I hurt you. I ask for God and you to forgive me, and I pray that he is watching over you at the Rainbow Bridge. I don't think I will ever forgive myself for what I have done.

In the days that followed, I would come home from work hoping that it was all a dream and she would be home to greet me, but there was only emptiness in my apartment. Since she only lived until the age of 4, I am in disbelief that she is gone. And I miss her dearly. I wish I had taken better care of her, that I hadn't hurt her out of anger, and that I spent more time with her as I had been grieving the death of our family dog, Sophie, over the prior year. I just didn't know she would die so suddenly. In many ways, it is unfair to Lana. Unfair that she only got to live a short while. Unfair that she died very suddenly because of her heart condition and me. Unfair that her first 2 years of life entailed trauma with her ending up in the animal shelther.

I don't know what you all will think of me, but regardless, I want the world to know what a special and unique being Lana was. She was my family. And I will never forget her. Lana, I am so sorry. I think of you every single day.