I stayed home sick yesterday and decided, in the midst of my misery, it was as good a day as any to put my little cat to sleep. After all, when you're feeling low you might as well pile on the depression to get it all out at once.
No, it wasn't out of boredom, little Puffy been headed downhill since February. She wasn't meant to live in the first place (see Survival of the Fittest), and her neurological problems have taken a turn for the worse lately. As of last week she had lost feeling in her back legs and was pretty much unable to stand on her own, which meant lots of messes and cat baths. I knew it was time, I just didn't want to do it because her front end was working fine.
I put my faithful old dog Gizmo to sleep several years back and she is conveniently buried in the garden. That was a hilarious event in hindsight...My great friend J had just moved in the day before Gizzie was laid to rest. Poor J was settling into her new home when I came home from the vet crying with a dog carcass wrapped in a beach towel. We weren't expecting Gizzie to die that day. Before I knew it J was crying too, just because I was crying, and I muttered something to her, we grabbed shovels, went to the garden, and dug a hole together. J had never wielded a shovel or had a pet in her life but it was quite a bonding moment and we still laugh about our state that day - two bawling women, a dead dog, and a hole.
So yesterday I dug a hole next to Gizmo and made the appointment for Puffy. I wasn't in the room with Gizmo when she went because they were trying to save her at the time. So this time, when they asked if I wanted to "be there for Puffy" I said sure. After all, I wouldn't want her to go down among the very folks who stuck thermometers up her butt and poked her with needles all her life.
The vet, a 30-something ex-death rocker somehow misplaced in Oak View, was very nice and explained the whole procedure to me. Then, with one last poke of the needle, Puffy basically went to sleep. After checking her heartbeat, the vet said "I'll give you a moment alone" and left the little room.
A moment alone? With tears in my eyes and my dead cat with one eye stuck open laying on a table?!?! He left before I could say anything and there I was, alone, in the room, with little Puffy staring at me. It was an odd moment and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I wondered if I ought to give last rites or saying something, but that seemed silly. Then, suddenly, Puffy twitched and burped and simultaneously scared the daylights out of me right as the vet returned. I was literally jumping back from the cat as he walked in. It must have been a sight and he tried to stifle a laugh as he explained Puffy was indeed dead. We both got a good chuckle out of it and he wrapped Puffy in a beachtowel and I took her home and buried her.
I can just imagine anthropologists in 300 years digging up my yard and finding the remains of Gizmo - a half-bald mutt with a two inch underbite - and Puffy - a retarded cat with backwards-built knees and a crooked spine - and wonder how these species ever survived. They'll never be able to piece together the mystery of why some crazy woman cared for them.
4 comments:
KC: I'm sorry you had to go through this. I'm a total softy when it comes to animal trauma, which makes me wonder why I don't empathize with people more (but then that's probably an issue for therapy).
You did the right thing as painful as it was. I admire you and respect you for giving your "special needs" kitty the good life she had. A peaceful and easy death was also a gift.
Thanks for the kind words Steve.
I like the part about the post-mortem excitement. Kind of took the edge off the sadness of the moment, didn't it?
Wow... very timely that I read this today. I am getting ready to move to an apartment where I will finally be able to have a cat. I mentioned this to my current neighbor, and we squealed in delight. Well, today, she called me to tell me that the stray in the neighborhood had a litter of kittens this morning on someone's porch. Mama kitty left took all the little kittens one by one to another place in a span of about 45 minutes, but one was left. We are not sure if she just left him/her, or if she didnt want to get her because of all the people around, so MM (neighbor) took the kitten home with her, and V (current landlord) called the vet to see what could be done for the little guy. MM called me today at work and said "Guess what! I have your new kitten!" MM is planning on nursing the kitten - assuming it makes it through the next few days, and keeping it until i move at the end of the month. I am excited to meet the little guy.. but also scared that the Mama Kitty just left him because there is something wrong with him. I guess I will pray that if it is not meant to be for this kitten to turn into a healthy cat, that it dies in the next few days.
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