Farewell, Mighty Quinn


This morning our Maine Coon, Quinn, let us know it was time for him to cross the rainbow bridge. He was around nine years old — not very old by our household’s standards; most of our pets live well into their teens. But Quinnie (as we called him) did not have it easy during his time on earth. He was sickly from day one; when we got him from the Nashville Humane Society he promptly infected everyone in the house with some kind of pneumonitic funk. And from there on he battled skin allergies and immune system disorders.

Friends of the blog may remember Quinnie from his allergy days, when I bought him onesies at Target in an effort to keep his raw belly from getting infected.

I spent a fortune on specialists and allergy therapies; he got pollen shots for years, he took steroids and other drugs until we finally found a protocol that worked. More recently it was lymphoma, which required chemo. The lymphoma went into remission and we had Quinnie for about 15 months after his diagnosis, which is far longer than the vet told us to expect. A couple weeks ago we found a mass in his liver, though. He declined quickly after that.

Through it all he was a real trooper, with a big heart and a great attitude. He was an awesome cat.

One of the most unique things about Quinnie was his love of blue foam balls. Not yellow foam balls, not pink foam balls, but BLUE. They had to be blue. He would pick the blue ones out from the rest until we finally figured out we could just buy him blue ones.

You always knew Quinnie was feeling good because he’d walk around the house with a blue ball in his mouth, caterwauling at the top of his lungs. Sometimes he’d make Quinnie art with them. He’d place them on our bed in very precise, organized patterns. Of course he was limited by the number of balls he had access to but once I gave him a whole bunch and he made a perfectly-centered diamond shape on our bed with one blue ball right in the middle. I am kicking myself for not taking a picture of it. It was his masterpiece.

Below, some memories of Quinn. He’s got quite a crew waiting for him on the Rainbow Bridge: Frasier and Sylive and Feister and Puddin’ and Toots, plus the dogs Cleo and Zelda and Boomer. I hope they’re all having a big party up there for him.

What follows are some memories of Quinn:

Christmas Quinnie! A baby picture ...

Christmas Quinnie! A baby picture …


Quinnie in a new onesie.

Quinnie in a new onesie.

Quinnie's art.

Quinnie’s art.



Filed under cat blogging, pets

19 responses to “Farewell, Mighty Quinn

  1. Kathleen

    My condolences to you and all friends, family, and furry ones who loved him. What a sweet kitty.

  2. BellaPea

    I am so sorry for your loss. What a sweet kitty.

  3. What a beautiful boy. So sorry. It’s so hard to let them go.

  4. Duke of Clay

    My deepest sympathy. I’ve lost a few over the years, and I know how much it hurts.

  5. BL

    So sorry to hear of your loss. Its really not fair that cats have life spans so much shorter than people…

  6. Frank Simpson

    Ouch! We went through that recently with out Hannah at 8 yrs of age. She just crawled into Barb’s lap and died.

  7. themadkansan

    Aw. ~:'(

  8. What a crowd he’s got waiting for him. I’m sad with you. It’s been almost 2 years since I lost my last geezer kitty, and I still haven’t cleaned the last of the cat hair in his spot.. Many hugs to you and your family.

  9. greennotGreen

    My deepest sympathies. May you take comfort in knowing you did right by him.

  10. Randy

    My regrets.

    “Oh come all without, come all within
    You’ll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn
    Come all without, come all within
    You’ll not see nothing like the mighty Quinn.”

  11. CB

    I’m so sorry. I’ve lost two in the last 3 years, but they were well into their teens, as well. It hurt like hell, both times. Their sister, at 18, is still with us. She’s hyperthyroid, so has to be medicated, and has the arthur-itis, but as long as she’s willing to hang on, so am I. My two youngsters are Quinn’s age, so this kind of hit me hard. I still think of them as the babies. It is never, ever an easy decision. At least we get to do this for our pets, if we can’t for ourselves or our loved humans. My sympathy and empathy are with you. Quinn was a beautiful cat, and your tribute to him is evocative. Hug all the kids extra tight tonight.

  12. Shutter

    In most cases it would be said he went to a better place.

    In this case, he was already in the best place possible with the best people he could have found.

  13. Mark Rogers

    Quinn was lucky to have such a family and the family was lucky to have Quinn.

    My regrets and best wishes.

  14. ThresherK

    Biggest virtual hugs from Spousal Unit and ThresherK, two members of Team Cat.

    And we have a feline who will “walk around the house with a toy in his mouth, caterwauling at the top of his lungs”. The strangest sound, almost as if he were ill, until you see how he has to hold the toy, then you marvel at how loud he sounds.

  15. Teh kittehs don’t need no grievin’, the moms and dads, do, though.

    I’m sure Quinn will put in a good word for you and Mr. Beale with the big catbox cleaner in the sky.

  16. My condolences. He sounds like quite a fella.