Saying Goodbye to Kitty đź’”
Today, we share some sad news from the PASH family. Our beloved clinic cat, Kitty, has passed over the rainbow bridge.
Kitty wasn’t just a cat to us—she was part of our team, our daily routine, and the heart of our clinic. For those who visited our shelter over the past three years, you likely met her. She was usually found sprawled out in the reception area, completely at ease, watching the world go by with her signature calm and fearless presence.
Her journey to PASH began under difficult circumstances. Kitty was originally brought to us by an owner who believed euthanasia was the only option due to a severe tumor on her ear. But when we looked at Kitty, we saw something different. We saw resilience. Life. The spark of a cat who wasn’t done yet. We persuaded her owner to surrender her instead, and from that moment, Kitty became one of us.
And what a life she lived.
At PASH, Kitty found more than safety—she found freedom. Each day, she roamed the clinic grounds as she pleased. She had her routine, her favorite nap spots, and most importantly, her people. Two meals a day, regular health checks, endless cuddles, and the kind of love that only comes from a team of animal lovers—Kitty had it all. At night, she curled up in her warm, soft bed, flanked by her fellow feline companions, Wengweng and Pusspuss. The three of them became quite the trio.
Kitty’s original cancer never fully went away, and over time, signs of it began to resurface. But it wasn’t what took her from us. Like many older cats, Kitty developed chronic kidney disease. In the last few weeks, her decline was clear. Her energy faded, her appetite waned, and we all knew deep down that the time was coming. Still, we hoped—because hope is something that never runs out at a place like PASH. Sadly, that miracle didn’t come.
Kitty passed away peacefully, surrounded by the people who loved her most. We are heartbroken, but we are also deeply grateful. Grateful that we got to be part of her story. Grateful that she found comfort, companionship, and joy in her final years. And grateful that her life is a reminder of what second chances can mean—not just for the animals, but for us, too.
She taught us about resilience. About slowing down. About the quiet strength of being yourself, unapologetically.
Kitty, you will be so missed. But your paw prints will remain forever on our hearts—and on the tiled floors of the clinic where you reigned with quiet dignity.
