2003 - 2019
Ginger greeted clients, harassed patients by walking by and showing she wasn't confined, walked on keyboards and generally kept us on our toes for so long, few of us remember life here without her. She was a cat's cat- independent and confident, she let you know what she liked and what she didn't. She liked laying across a pile of charts until someone scratched her back and gave her pats. She loved when she got to wear a bow for the holidays. And she was always at the top of her game as chief cat nip quality control inspector. The only dog that every scared her was a 230lb mastiff. She was an escape artist who set off our alarm system on more than one occasion. She loved her cardboard box at the front desk and, for years, that's where you'd find her. If you bought her a fancy bed, she'd turn up her nose until you put her box back. In recent years, aka her retirement, she spent less time greeting clients and more of it curled up on a tiny stool. We understood wanting things to be a little slower. We never really understood why she picked a spot she had to curl herself up into a ball for--but that's a cat's cat for you. She kept the mystery alive. After 16 good years, today we finally had to say goodbye. Her body just couldn't do it anymore. The team rallied around her and gave her a loving and gentle send off. It's hard to describe how a hospital full of animals could feel so empty. But this afternoon, it really does. We are sending this message to Ginger and sending our love our to all the people, staff and clients alike, who will be missing her in the coming months. She is loved and missed.