Allow me to introduce
-
Theodore McTavish MacGregor McGee,
otherwise known as Teddy McT.
A mighty hunter of rodents is he.
He has
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Great magnificent scimitar claws
hidden in soft, gentle, kitty-cat paws
and scimitar teeth in his kitty-cat jaws.
His
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Very nice soft and velvety fur
and his wonderfully loud affectionate purr
make him most specially first-rate, I aver
And the last line shall forever be
Someone should finish this poem for me.
I had my cat put down yesterday. He’d been suffering from kidney failure for months now, and the evening before suddenly he couldn’t stand up, so I knew it was time. I got something from the vet to give him at home to knock him out so he wouldn’t be traumatized by the trip in to the vet’s office–I just can’t handle the idea that the last experience one of my animals has in life is the very scary experience of going to the vet. I sat with him and petted him, and he purred right up until the drug took over. He was an extremely nice cat.
This stuff is just hard for me. I knew it was coming ever since the vet diagnosed him some time last spring, and I knew he was getting close, and there’s no doubt at all that it was time. And still it’s hard.
Here are some pictures of him.
My heart goes out to you. I am crying as I write this. He was a magnificent fellow. Please accept my condolences over your loss.
Sometime in the next few years, I’ll be living out that same scene. We have a cat that is fourteen or fifteen years old. He had a rough stretch around Christmas time, and only just started to look himself again this week.
It’s gut-wrenching to euthanize a cat. I had one that was struck by a car and suffered internal injuries. Even so, I came close to tearing the cat from the vet’s arms and making a break for it. It ain’t easy letting go.
It’s very hard to lose a pet. They trust and love us so much, and we can’t explain things to them. Here’s a poem by Gavin Ewart you might like:
Thank you all for your kind comments. I’ve been feeling/thinking since he’s been gone that if anything I should have let him go earlier–he really hadn’t been feeling well for some time. On the other hand–he ate from my hand, with every sign of pleasure, just before I gave him the tranquilizer shot, and purred as I petted him until the drug took over–so maybe it all worked out as well as it could have, given the realities of mortality.
Anyway, I’m feeling a bit more at peace about it now.
My beloved Bean cat died 3 years ago xmas. Her kidneys were failing, she was 18 years old. Her teeth were bad and I often cooked for her. Her last meal was broccoli,chicken, mashed potatoes, with tons of garlic. She couldn’t chew well so I cooked everything until it was falling apart and hand fed her. She would smack her lips and her little tongue would hang out of her mouth.
She died in my arms and I remember holding her lifeless body and feeling the most intense pain of my life. The loss of my best friend in the world. (sad that an old cat was my best friend) I swore to never go through that kind of pain again. I had no other animals and didn’t want any.
Last year a small feral kitten appeared at my door. She was the exact color of my dead cat. She could have been Beans twin. She looked like she’d been mauled by something and she was very hungry. I fed her and watched her for a week as she came out at night from under the storage shed.
I trapped her, brought her inside, and couldn’t touch her for three weeks. When I did, I had to chase her down and wear leather gloves. She was truly a wild animal and I had my doubts whether I could tame her and keep her as a pet.
It’s been a almost a year, and she has one trait besides her color that makes me wonder about her. When she sleeps, her tongue hangs out of her mouth like the Bean. Sometimes I forget and call her Bean instead of Mattie. My point is, I am now committed to another 18yrs of kitty companionship.
I’m glad you are handling the death of your kitty well. I did not handle Beans death well at all. I now have Mattie and she makes my life bearable.
P.S. I really enjoy your photos.
When a pet stays with you that long, they become so woven into the fabric of your life that it you hurt in places you didn’t even know were there when they die. I had a most excellent dog years ago that I had adopted as a stray when I was working on the Navajo reservation. He looked like nothing on earth when I began feeding him. I resisted for a week because I had adopted a couple of other stray pups before that only to have them die of distemper within weeks, and I didn’t want a repeat of that, but he kept running past my front door, looking worse and worse every day, so I finally caved. He grew up to be a very handsome dog and was extremely devoted to me all his life. He was with me for about 13 years, and when he died of cancer, it was very hard. I mourned him more than some people I’ve known seemed to mourn their parents when they died.
Part of what I realized after he died is that he was part of my life more than any human being during that time. I have both family and friends that I am close to, but this dog was with me every day for 13 years, shared both life at home and all my trips, shared even my relationships with those people close to me. I could count on him and take him for granted, and did, and that was just fine with him. I had grown and changed, my life had changed, during those 13 years, and he was part of it all. It felt like I’d lost some of the ground under my feet when he died.
The point I’m trying to make in my long-winded way is in response to your saying that it was sad that an old cat was your best friend. I would say, not at all strange or sad that a cat was your best friend. Rather, you were blessed to have such a good friend, and have her for so many years.
PS I’m glad you like the photos. My digital camera has been my obsession for a couple of years now–I’ve always considered myself to be artistically challenged, and I love it that just by snapping lots and lots of pictures, I can get some that are good, or at least halfway decent, and toss away the rest, and the ones I reject cost nothing.
Beautifully said. It is now nearly 3 years after your post, I suppose, but I just came across it.
Thank you for posting this. It is very helpful. And the comments are very insightful and compassionate.
3years! Amazing. But you’re right.
It has been amazing to me how people keep coming across this post, and responding to it. The comments are to me the most significant thing about it.
Because this one, and a few others, still get some readership, and still seem to mean something to people, I’ll leave this blog up even though I’ve virtually stopped posting since last summer, and only check in every few weeks.
We’re facing having to put down our beloved cat, Dolly, tomorrow morning. She has fatty liver disease and a tumor. Has lost 1/2 her body weight. She still tries to eat but walks away after a couple bites. Sometimes she eats well, but not often enough. Our vet says she is probably nauseous. The fatty liver disease was diagnosed 3 years ago. We’ve bought alot of time since then. First, a gastro-nasal tube and one week of liquid diet right after the diagnosis. We were prepared to tube feed longer, but she vomited the broken off bottom 2 inches of the tube, so we had it removed for fear the liquid food would end up in her lungs. We’ve had her hydrated several times. It helps her. I truly don’t want to part with her but feel so sorry for her. She still comes nightly for her brushing, curling up in a big shoebox next to me on the sofa. I’ve had to euthanize 5 cats over the years. Each time seems worse than the last. I keep hoping that Dolly will just pass away in her sleep, but we’ve not had the good luck to have that happen. It has been interesting reading all these stories from pet lovers. Thank you.
I’m so sorry about the loss of Teddy McT. It’s so hard to lose these critters who become so much a part of our lives. I think it’s great that you were able to help him to be comfortable at the end. I hope that you do not second guess yourself any more about not having him put down sooner. We treasure these little friends and we do what we think is best for them at the time, ya know?
I was just thinking about my Rocky dog this morning. He was a great dog – except when he wasn’t. >:-| I still choke up thinking about my beautiful friend. He was a faithful companion and very much a part of our family.
Again, I’m sorry about Teddy McT.
Parry, I hope Dolly had a peaceful passing, and that it hasn’t been too traumatic for you. There’s just no way to make these things easy–we just have to go through them.
Thanks you, Mrs. Nicklebee (I love your name, by the way.) I’m thinking that someday I will post pictures and stories of my other deceased critters. Each bond is unique and special.
I’m so very sorry to hear about your Teddy McT. My Hobie was only 2 months shy of 19 when she passed away last month.
Hobie died here at home with us, and I was very thankful of that, as I (like you) did not want her last experience to be a trip to the vet. Instead, she died peacefully surrounded by those who loved her. (If only all animals were as lucky)
All animals and all humans, for that matter.
i lost my cat and i’m sad but still i’m lifeless
On Monday my dear old tabby tom cat was put to sleep – and since then I have had felt such intense pain and loss and of course guilt – he came to me as a stray 13 years ago – he was in a bad state physically then and I helped him to get well. I spent all my time caring for him and tending to his needs, it went against the grain to put him down. Like you I couldn’t bear the last fated visit to the vet – especially because he hated going so much – so we had him put down at home. He was probably 20 years old and he was so smart and such a survivor – we’ve been through at least two near-death experiences – and the smartest thing he did was to find me. We were inseparable – I never felt alone when he was there – we communicated constantly and understood one another perfectly. I loved your photographs of Mr McT – he looked something like my dear boy in his sleek prime. I don’t care if I’m a sad old cat woman, it was a love affair of a kind and Oscar will always be part of me. It’s comforted me to read these comments because I know that there are people who’ve been through this too. I know he was happy, I know he couldn’t have been loved more or have given more love, and that he died comfortable at home – but all the same, all the same … I MISS HIM.
There’s just no getting around the pain the loss of a much-loved pet causes us, no matter how inevitable or rational ar painless the death. My heart goes out to you, to everyone who has visited this post because they had recently lost a pet or were facing the prospect.
what a beautiful cat. I lost my Oliver 3 years ago to a kidney tumour he went down hill very quickly and i still mourn him, my lovely boy. His sister Daisy is still with me, she is 19 nopw. she has just been diagnosed with a tumour on her liver, i am livin each day thanking god i still have her.
My heart goes out to you.
And mine to you. Enjoy each remaining day with Daisy.
I am sorry for your loss of Teddy McT. I just had my beloved kitty Goose put down this AM. I am still in shock and keep walking around the house looking for her. It was nice to read your poems and others’ responses. Goose and I were together for almost 15 years. She beat cancer 3 yrs ago but has been in kidney failure for 9 months. The last few weeks have been rough. After she stopped eating for 2 days, I knew it was time. This morning she woke me up at 5am and meowed at me in the kitchen, but she did not want to eat the food I gave her. I think she loves our mornings together in the kitchen as much as I do, as sick as she was. She passed very peacefully in my arms, the vet gave us narcotics so she would be calm for the trip to the vet. Coming home to an empty house was the worst. She was the best friend I have ever had.
It’s going to be a bad few weeks until I get used to Goose not being with me every night and every morning. 15 yrs is a long time.
thanks again
Mel
RIP my sweet Goose 1992-2007
Thank you for your sympathy. I still miss my cat hugely and I always will, although of course the pain will subside – and maybe I’ll get another cat. The house seems strange and desolate without him – and like Mel I loved my mornings with Oscar. The point about Oscar though is that I didn’t think of him as a cat particularly, just another being, whom I happened to share my life with, and love. There is a short story by Lorrie Moore, an American writer, called Three French Hens in her collection ‘Birds of America’ where she writes about her cat Bert and what she calls ‘inter-species’ love – i.e. the love for your cat is not a susbstitute love for say, a child – it is simply love for another species and can go very deep. It’s not crazy sentimentality to love an animal – love is love whatever the species. I would like to know when and if you’ll get another cat.
‘inter-species’ love – i.e. the love for your cat is not a susbstitute love for say, a child – it is simply love for another species and can go very deep. It’s not crazy sentimentality to love an animal – love is love whatever the species.
I totally agree.
I will get a cat again some day. I love my dogs, but I’m a 2-species kinda person. Cat energy and dog energy are so different, and I like both in my life. However, I’m planning to be away for six weeks this summer, so I’ll wait until I get back. And then give myself the pleasure of looking until another cat or kitten reaches out and snares me (that’s how it always works for me.)
On googling my name I saw my outpouring of grief about my cat is out there on the internet – and anybody personally or professionally who googles my name which is quite distinctive – gets an insight into my intimate feelings. I’m an inexperienced blogger and thought that I was sharing these feelings with a few people who loved cats and had gone through the same thing. Of course I didn’t think to use a blogging name or just my first name or initials. Could you please either substitute my name with my initials or remove the comments posted? Maybe this isn’t blogging protocol but I’d appreciate it if it could be done – it’s just such a personal thing. I’m looking forward to hearing about your new cat by the way.
I understand. I didn’t realize at first that all my comments were picked up by google either.
I’ve changed your name to initials–if you’d rather I removed the comments altogether, let me know, and I’ll do that. I also deleted your cat’s name, just to further anonymize your comments.
Thank you – I enjoy your blog and appreciate your sensitivity -
We had to put our 15 1/2 yr old Boots down today. He has had kidney and liver failure for the last year but still acted kitten-like up until the past week. He seems to have aged 10 years in a week. He hadn’t eaten in 4 days and was wasting away. It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make and although I know it was the right one for him, it is devastating. I agree with what someone said earlier – I hurt in places I never knew existed. How long will the pain last?
I can’t tell you how long it will last–but I can tell you that as the weeks and months have gone on, I am more and more sure that I did the right thing and that it would have been cruel to try to keep Teddy going any longer. I feel more easy in myself now than I did right afterwards, becasue I am so sure it was what was best for him.
It has been wonderful help reading all of your letters and notes. My cat Wesley is 20 this year and it’s been a long road. Suddenly last night he wasn’t able to stand and walk. We are facing the inevitable and it is very difficult to even imagine. This cat has lived in numerous places with me all over the country for the last 20 years. I find your poems and thoughts helpful so that I can do what needs to be done next. Thanks you all.
Hi-I stumbled upon your wonderful blog this morning as I was deep in thought about all sorts of existential things. I love your “Goodbye to Teddy McT” and am sorry for your loss.
Two months ago, my partner and I had to help our princess Luca go to “sleepy time” and it was both a devastating and rewarding experience.
I adopted Luca when she was 6 months old. At that time I was single and just “came out.”I had a difficult time trying to integrate this aspect of me with my somewhat strict Catholic upbringing and was very depressed. To Luca, it didn’t matter—I was her Daddy and she loved me just because! Gee…what a message. Haven’t we heard that before but it seems to get hijacked by oh…let’s say…the patriarchy?
Anyway, I could tell the person I met was right for me when he received Luca’s approval (and blessing). And she was very lucky to have two Daddies who loved her very much—and let her love them, too!
Last summer, Luca and I would have special dates every 3 weeks when I took her for chemo treatments. To her it was a “special event” where she could meet more, new people and give her love to them. She did very well.
This past March, she stopped eating and drinking and it seemed as if she wanted help with the dying process. We took her to the vet and held her until the very end (in this world). We thanked her for coming into our lives and could feel an even greater love from her as she slipped into that next plane of being.
Less than one month ago, she appeared to me in a vision along with my father who passed on about 10 years ago. The feeling I had was as if she met my father’s spirit and told him about her Daddies; he, in turn, told her that he was a Daddy, too. So they came to visit the person they have in common.
I’m keeping this vision close to me and allowing its message to revisit me whenever.
The cat as a spiritual being and one who can guide us as we work towards our individual salvation.
Sorry to ramble, but I wanted to share.
Peace to you!
-Rich
RGB and Rich
Thank you both. I have been moved and blessed by the continuing response to this post. It’s a reminder of other realities in our lives–those realities that aren’t the ones that get talked about in the media, but are important to what makes life meaningful. And a lovely monument to Teddy McT, and to the cats (and a dog or several, in my case, as well) who’ve graced the lives of all you who stop by and leave your comments.
What a wonderful tribute and memory to your sweet Theodore. I have lost several cats over the past 35 years…1 to feline leukemia (Chaundar), 1 to liver failure (Sprou) 1 to old ‘wise’ age and just last week the devastating loss of our 6 year old Boomie. He was healthy and a little fireball up until 3 weeks ago. He had diarrhea, was losing weight very fast yet eating like a pig, yet appeared to have very little energy. The vet did blood work, x-ray’s and ultra sounds and said it appeared to be a tumor on the outside of his intestinal wall that was blocking the passage of food as all the test showed nothing out of the ordinary other than this tumor. We wanted to give Boomie a chance so we opted for surgery. During the surgery the vet found that the tumor was a malignant monster that had destroyed his large intestines, most of his colon and was heading into the artery to his aorta. As hard as it was, we asked the vet to not wake him up…no more pain for Boomie. My husband and I are just devastated. It doesn’t seem to matter that we know we did everything possible…it still hurts so much. We have four outher fur babies ranging in age from 11 to 20 and we see how much they miss Boomie too. I believe the loss is great no matter what age…no matter what the reason. I am trying very hard to honor all his wondeful little antics and not to concentrate on his passing…yet it is so hard. Still, in my heart, I would not trade this pain or one single tear to not have had Boomie or my other babies in my life. Each one allows us to love them and gives us so much love in return…what an exceptional blessing. May you find peace and comfort, Adolfio and everyone else in remembering these precious furry blessings. This site has helped me as well.
Just hold onto the thought that it does get better; the pain recedes, and you’re left with the good memories. As I know you realize.
I continue to be touched by the stories people who find their way here share with me. I had no idea this would turn out to be such a meaningful post to so many people; I was just trying to ease my own pain by putting up a memorial to Teddy McT. But it’s turned into much more than that. thank you for sharing your story.
just stumbled on this blog…and it’s helped…I am one of those crazy ladies with a lot of cats. I didn’t plan it that way it just happened. They are fixed and don’t procreate but start showing up at my door. About three years ago a feral cat had kittens under the stoop of the neighborhood’s crankiest person…she announced they are out of here, one way or another. Fearing what would happen I was able to trap Momma and the five kittens and smuggled them into my condo. Well the kittens were young enough to respond to me, but Momma has remained feral. Now she is dying and I have decided to let nature take its course, since whenever I approach her she growls and tries to scratch me. I don’t want to stress her out by making her last moments being trapped in a pillow case or pushed into a cage, even though now she is weak enough for me to control her. It just tears my heart out. I wish the end would come. I know that no matter how I opted to handle this, I would feel guilt. It’s in my lapsed-Catholic genes. But reading these posts helped. My friends keep reminding me she would not have lived long outdoors having litters and for the past few years she has enjoyed the company of her brood and food and warmth. I don’t think she’s in pain, she is just failing. Please think of her and me.
I’m glad the post and comments have helped you. I know what you mean about the guilt–I always end up second-guessing myself. Should I have let the critter live longer, or live out the whole process to the end? Should I have made the decision to end it earlier, to shorten the suffering? In the end, I think the guilt–for me, at least–is about feeling guilty that I can’t fix it–fix the situation, restore the critter to life and health, help it feel good again. Which of course makes no sense–but there it is, I feel responsible, I feel I should be able to do something even though I know I can’t.
thanks for keeping up with your blog and responding…It helps knowing others share your feelings…strange, I have dealt with numerous deaths of my feline companions and now this cat, who would not let me touch her, saddens me so much. I guess I kept thinking I had time for her to get to know and trust me, as her kittens do. But, it wasn’t to be. I know it gets better having gone through this so many times…but the process is hard. and judging my your comments, you fully understand…again thanks
You’re welcome.
Teale,
It is so hard…but you gave her every chance you could and time to spend with her babies. We all second guess ouselves..I have with each and every precious baby that I had to say good bye to. I wanted them with me, yes indeed, but not at the cost of their own health and comfort.
Take comfort in know that you have done all you can and now it is time for her to go. Here are words that make me sad, yet always remind me of what was and will forever be in my heart.
Bright Eyes, burning like fire.
Bright Eyes, how can you close and fail.
How can the lights that burned so brightly,
Suddenly seem so pale…Bright Eyes.
For me, those precious bright eyes will forever light a warm space in my heart.
Thinking of you and ‘momma’ cat!
Thank you all for your stories. Here is mine. You never adopt a cat, a cat adopts you. I named him Sunset because he was a seal point and with his contrasting light and dark fur looked like a sunset. Through good and bad he was with me. When I had nothing I had him. He would wait for me when I came home from work at 4:30-am just to make sure I was okay. When I wouldn’t pay him any mind he would make his presence felt. He was a friend, but most of all he showed me the beauty of unconditional love.
Lat week I brought him to the vet and he was diagnosed with kidney failure. When she told me this, it felt like someone punched me in the stomach. We tried intravenous for a week but with no success. He was starving to death. Today I brought him again to the vet and put him to sleep. It was that hardest decision of my life but I feel in my heart it was the right one. We had run out of realistic options and him being so nauseated that he could not eat left me little choice.
I buried him in the back yard, my friend of 15 years. I am sadder but wiser and will miss him terribly but such is the mystery of life. Death is but a door and one day we’ll be catnapping together once again, basking in the warmth of a stray sunbeam. Good bye old friend.
For those ever forced with this terrible choice of putting a pet to sleep, the only thing I can offer in the way of advice is talk to your vet and listen to your heart. Do what’s right for your friend not for yourself. Ultimately it’s all just a question of time. One day both will be reunited at the source from where we all came.
I realize it’s been exactly a year since you first posted this entry on your blog and I hope I’m not bringing up memories that are hard for you. Like many others reading it has given me some perspective, made me feel a little better.
My cat is a few months shy of 20 years old and several months ago had to be taken to an emergency vet because I noticed blood in her urine and can pretty much guarantee it was the first time that happened since she been peeing from inside the litter box onto wee wee pads around the box for a few years so we are able to see her pee color. The vets said that she was in beginning stages of kidney failure and gave us medicine that she has to be on for the rest of her life, else she has blood in the urine again.
We know that we will have to put her down eventually. She seems a bit senile, hard or hearing, possible can’t see as well as she used to, and sometimes it takes her a little while to get up from her bed, unless it’s dinner time. She still eats, drinks, purrs, but she also howls at night, in the early morning, when she gets into her bed, all through the day on and off when she isn’t sleeping. Today she peed in her bed for the first time ever then went around howling and wouldn’t leave the dinning room after she ate breakfast in the kitchen. We don’t think she is in pain, but today some one said to me how do you know that she is not in pain when she howls and it’s not obvious she’s asking for something, like to be put on my bed or be fed. The answer, I don’t know.
It seems that for other people who posted about their cat with kidney failure above, their pet had stopped eating and/or became thin, but that isn’t the case for my cat. I don’t want to put her down, we hope she’ll pass at home with all of us, but I don’t want her to suffer. I guess what I am hoping is that some one else might see this and give me some insight into theirs and their cats experience with the progression of kidney disease.
Sorry if this is not the right venue to ask a question of others, I’ve never posted anything online before and hope it’s not rude, and if that’s the case please delete this.
No, your comment is in no way rude. My heart goes out to you–it’s so hard to make these decisions.
I don’t know much about kidney disease in cats–Teddy McT was the first cat I ever owned who had it. It’s possible your cat is in the first stages of it, or has a different version. We had a cat when I was a kid that had to have pills to avoid blood in the urine–she lived for years, but then she got it when she was considerably younger than yours. I’d suggest asking your vet for more information. Or continuing to look around online.
In the end, you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is. Even if you aren’t sure about it, it’ll be the right decision. You love the cat, you’re paying close attention to her, and that will lead you to the right course of action, day by day. For me, when one of my critters is nearing the end, I try to base it on whether or not he/she is still having what I call “good time” each day; when there’s no more good time, or when the bad time gets too bad–then it’s time for me to let go.
I have never felt as much sadness as I am feeling now.
I had a kitty named Isis that was my best friend and companion for almost 20 years and I had to put her to sleep this past week. She was diagnosed with Kidney failure about 1 1/2 years ago. The vet recommended I give her sub-cu fluids IV every day, and I did. She was still in OK health, but 6 months ago, she was diagnosed with dental disease, which caused her to have an infection in her blood, and it could worsen her kidney disease. So she had quick dental surgery and had a few teeth pulled but She stayed in the hospital for 3 days, on an IV, to help her feel better, and get hydrated. Right after that the vets labeled her the “miracle kitty” and she was almost like a kitten again, but the kidney disease was sneakily creeping up. She started limping about a month ago, and I took her to vet and she was given x-rays, and nothing was broken. The vet said she had arthritis, and she could easily hurt herself, when she tried to jump, cause her spring was not so good anymore. The vet gave her a shot for pain, and she tripped out all night staring into her bowl of water. A few days later I noticed, Isis’s back legs could no longer support her. It is as if she had a stroke and maybe she did. I also want to say that for several months its seemed when she would get stressed out, she would urinate blood, but now it she was bleeding every time she urinated. She also had not produced any stool in about 3 days, and she was not interested in eating or drinking. I took her back to the vet, and the vet told me she needed to be hospitalized, Her kidney values were super high, and in advanced stages of kidney failure, the bone marrow no longer recreates new red blood cells, and Isis was very anemic and weak. She stayed in the hospital for 3 days on IV, and the vet phoned me each day to let me know her prognosis, She told me that Isis was not herself, and her will seemed to be gone.
She was barely eating, and still had not produced any stool.
She told me the next step I could consider was a blood transfusion, but that would only serve as a band-aid at this stage in her kidney disease. She recommended I take Isis home and spend some time with her. I knew what that meant. I felt she wanted to know my thoughts on Isis’s quality of life. I took Isis home and that night I could see she was in pain, she could not get comfortable anywhere she tried to sleep, even on her favorite chair. She could no longer jump up on my bed and when she tried to jump down, she would do a split & slide all over . It was so painful to watch, especially to understand that her pride had been broken. It was too much to bear.
When I would lift her up to put her down from the bed, she would scream in pain, from around her stomach area.
Strangely, I asked her that night, if she wanted to go to he Heaven, and for the first time in all the years I have known her, she let out a sentence that sounded like she was pleading for help. The next morning, I knew it was time.
She still did not want to eat or drink. I made an appointment with the vet. The vet told me this was the right choice for her. She could still die in dignity, before all of her organs started failing, and finally be rid of her pain. I held her while the vet euthanized her. She explained everything to me. First I had to sign a consent, then she gave Isis a shot of anesthesia in a catheter to put her in a deep sleep, then she gave her the euthanasia. I am not gojng to lie. It was the worst & strangest experience of my life. Thank God, I know that Isis did not feel a thing, but I just turned completely white, felt really nausea & queasy, started sweating profusely, and could not catch my breath. It was over in a matter of seconds, and I could feel her temperature drop quickly, which is when I could no longer handle holding Isis. I felt like I was going to faint, and the vet gave me some water. My friend said he had a similar experience, and I was wondering if anyone else had that experience. I think it was really hard for me, since I was alone in all this. I think everyone should have someone that can drive, because I was having a hard time seeing through my tears. I had made previous arrangements with a pet cemetery, and the vet put her body in a box, and then in my car, and I drove what seemed to be the longest 5 miles to the cemetery. I dropped her off, and her viewing was set for the afternoon. I wanted her to have a traditional Jewish burial. She was buried in a satin lined wooden casket, and When I saw her in her casket, she looked like she was sleeping in peace, more then I had seen her look in years. I know she is no longer in pain and now at peace.
Since last week, I have been crying. The vet recommended that I see a pet grievance counselor. She made a point when she said, when humans are terminally ill and in pain, we cannot opt for a shot of relief to end our pain. We must endure horrible diseases to the end, and that helping a pet in need like this was the most unselfish act of love a person could give & a true gift.
I really believe that a higher power was driving me that day, because I would never have found the strength to help Isis in this way on my own. Letting go is the hardest thing in the world, I believe. I had dreamt of dying at the same time as her, and being buried in the same coffin. She was with me for all of my adult life. I am 39 and I have had her since I was 20. She knew my very first boyfriend, my ex-husband, she lived with me on the East Coast and traveled with me to live on the West Coast.
Isis mysteriously arrived in my life in 1988.
This little grey & white kitten that looked like Bugs Bunny approached my brother on a 2nd floor elevated car platform in Philadelphia. She kept meowing at him, until he picked her up. He brought her home, and I fell instantly in love & adopted her. We bonded right away. There was something so different about her. I had just moved back from NYC, and had just found an apartment in Philadelphia.
A few months into our living arrangement, I was feeling very sad over a break up with my boyfriend, and Isis was lying on my stomach, trying to comfort me when suddenly she started to moan loudly, and then right out of her popped this white gooey sack, right there on my stomach. She looked more confused than me, but started licking it, and it was a little baby. Who knew this little kitty was pregnant? I quickly found a box, and put her and her baby in it, and then 4 more babies popped out of her. It was a magical experience. Isis was always there for me, and I loved her so much, and always will. I loved to spoil her and make her happy. I never had any children and so she was my only baby. I am told that time can only heal the pain I am feeling.
I read the story of Rainbow’s Bridge and that has helped me a lot.
http://rainbowbridge.com/Poem.htm
Strangely a few months before Isis died, I rescued a little kitten. I don’t know what any of it means yet, but I do know GOD works in mysterious ways. I also believe that I will be reunited with Isis again someday.
This is one of the hardest things in life to have to go through, but most people experience it at some time or another.
I hope sharing this comforts others to know you are not alone, just as so many of the postings of others on this blog has comforted me.
Joan, your story wrings my heart. As so many of the stories people have graced me with here, it humbles me. I hope you are healing–I’m sure your new kitten is helping with that.
With apologies to Neil Young and King:
I had a dog, and his name was Heff.
Loved everything about him but his breath.
We went huntin’, that dog and I,
but then one day, the Heff up an’ died.
Heff went runnin’ after deer,
wasn’t scared to jump out of my truck in hi gear.
That ole dog meant alot to me,
but that black dog is history.
I just found your site. I liked your poem. Something in one’s life does stop, forever, when a long beloved pet dies.
Our beloved cats died of chronic renal failure last summer. We had to have Tasha put down; it was time. Her brother Harley faded without her and died on his own, somewhat unexpectedly, 5 weeks later. They were littermates and would have been 22 at their next birthday.
Tasha had been diagnosed in September 2002; she was on daily subQ fluids for almost 6 years and thrived for many of those years, but time caught up with her. Harley developed it later in his life, but it went faster. We think he just was not going to stay here without her.
They were the best. Their photo is here.
http://www.ballstonanimalhospital.vetsuite.com/Templates/ContentPages/Clinic_Info/ViewPetContent.aspx?Id=131665