A few weeks ago we lost our original lobby cat, Biscuit, to cancer. Please take a moment to read this sweet obituary of our Biscuit boy written by our board member, Erin.
Those words frequently rang out in our clinic, beginning in 2010 when we opened our doors. Figuring that an organization dedicated to reducing the euthanasia rate at local shelters should practice what it preached, Planned PEThood founders Elizabeth Burgner and Lynette Thorpe Purves adopted a young orange-and-white cat from Gwinnett County animal control, back when the “live release” rate for cats was far below today’s 95%+.
They named him Biscuit and set him up as the official Clinic Cat, and he took to the job like he’d been born for it: greeting visitors, inspecting donations, and supervising the staff. He walked around the clinic like he owned it, and he soon revealed a talent for getting into trouble. Hence: “Dammit, Biscuit!”
Biscuit crossed the Rainbow Bridge January 7, 2020 after a brief battle with cancer.
If personality dictated lifespan, Biscuit would have outlived every human who knew him. As everyone who met him can attest, Biscuit was special–in all the best ways. He was even immortalized as a bobblehead and in multiple marketing promotions and materials!
“Dammit, Biscuit!” He reveled in going where he wasn’t supposed to, sneaking into the room where we keep our barn cats who are waiting to be adopted, the kennel rooms, staff offices, the supply closet where we keep the treats. He even figured out how to open closed doors by jumping up and pressing the door lever down with his paw!
“Dammit, Biscuit!” He LOVED food and treats and would chew open donated bags if we didn’t hide them. He would beg for the clinic staff to “share” their lunch with him–and was usually successful. He wanted to sample EVERYTHING you were eating.
When a friendly, laid-back tuxedo cat was trapped in a feral colony, brought in for neuter surgery, and took up residence at the clinic because he was too sweet to be returned to the colony, Biscuit found his best friend. He and Jerome had an epic bromance, cuddling up together and then wrestling for dominance. Our staff and volunteers are giving Jerome extra cuddles.
Biscuit developed lymphoma a few years ago–and with treatment, he fought and beat it. After losing a lot of weight and energy, he bounced most of the way back to his sassy Biscuit-y self. Recently, when he lost his appetite and turned more ornery than usual, we knew something was wrong again.
While waiting for test results, he went home with one of our longtime volunteers, Bob, for more intensive care and pain management–and all the attention he wanted. After the biopsy revealed a form of oral cancer, an oncologist confirmed that the prognosis, even with aggressive treatment, was poor.
He crossed the Bridge with people who loved him at his side.
Run free, Biscuit! Open all the doors. Steal all the treats. Eat all the food. Inspect all the boxes and bags. Welcome all the visitors. Sleep in all the beds. Go find the clinic cats who crossed the Bridge ahead of you, like Freddy and Raisin.
Dammit, Biscuit! You were a darn good cat. You left us too soon, and we miss you more than we can express.
We know many of our supporters loved and will miss him, too. We invite you to post your photos and remembrances in the comments below. We have created a Facebook album with our many photos of Biscuit also.
If you want to make a memorial contribution in Biscuit’s memory to help other animals in need, we will list all of the memorial donations on this page. You can make a memorial gift here.