I woke up this morning to the familiar mew I had hear every day for the last 18 years of my life. As I shrugged myself awake, I realized I was imagining things. Dale, my cat was gone. I had her put to sleep yesterday. As a writer, I feel the only way to truly purge myself of the most raw feelings is to write about them. With that said, I will share the process my family went through when deciding to and carrying through with putting my cat to sleep.
We started talking about it a year ago when the cat started going blind. We, my husband, myself, and the kids, discussed at what point the cat would be miserable, and how long we would go before putting her to sleep. None of us wanted to set any guidelines, and we searched the internet for sources that might help us determine when enough would be enough. We finally decided that she could live with blindness, but she stopped eating showed serious signs of illness we would let her go. We also decided we would not medicate her and take extensive interventions to prolong her life as she was a very old kitty.
As the months passed we made adjustments to the way we live to accommodate our old and blind cat. We resisted the urge to move furniture so she wouldn’t bang her head when roaming around the house. We did our best to keep her in the master bedroom and bath so she would be near her litter and safe from the dogs. We stopped using bathroom rugs and put away the scale as she started finding alternatives to her cat box. We grumbled as the “accidents” increased, but cleaned it up and made attempts to keep her happy.
About a month ago, we got the first signs that it was really time. Her circle of daily exploration got smaller and smaller. She stopped going down the hall at night to sleep with my daughter. She started turning over her food and water instead of eating it. Finally we noticed an equilibrium problem. She started walking in small circles and was often dizzy. It was time to talk to the kids.
Our kids aren’t little. At 13 and 15, they understand death, and they knew the cat was suffering, but they needed time to come to terms. My daughter who is closest to the cat started spending extra time petting and loving on her every day, as she prepared herself for the inevitable. Eventually even she knew it was time, as during the last week, she started avoiding the cat. It was heart breaking to seek her wobble around feeling sick.
Finally the day came. I noticed the cat’s wobble was heartbreakingly bad. She would take a few very wide steps and topple over. She was bumping into things hard. She was hurting herself. I spent the night holding her, hoping this was just a spell, as she was visibly sick one day last month, but recovered. As morning came, however, it was clear that things were only getting worse. I called my kids into my room and told them it was time to say goodbye. Then we cried a bit.
My kids gave me the courage to call the vet, as I really wanted to wait. My husband was out of town and he wanted to say goodbye to her too, but we all knew it had to be done. I called the vet, explained the symptoms and her age and progression and they said come on it, it’s time. There were a couple of hours until the appointment so my daughter and I took turns holding and kissing her, and my son took pictures.
Finally it was time for the appointment, so I wrapped her in a towel and drove to the vet with her in my lap. (I know… but I couldn’t bare to put her in the cat box that she always hated). Fortunately the vet was only 2 miles away.
I got to the vet and they were very somber and seemed genuinely sad for me. They explained the process and warned me it would be messy, as animals release their bowels and bladder when they die. It seemed that they were trying to talk me out of staying with her (I am sure they were), as they made suggestion after suggestion of my maybe not wanting to stay through the whole thing. It is honestly a bit of a blur, but in the end we agreed on a sedative to put her to sleep, and I would stay with her until she was completely out. Then they would take her and finish the process.
Dale gave one last hiss as the nurse injected her in the hip with the sedative, then she curled up in my arms. She seemed to be aware of what was going on. She also seemed at peace as she drifted off to sleep while I talked to her about how awesome and how cool it was that time she rode a dog. I also thanked her for taking care of me and my family for 18 years. Finally, her head dropped, and she was completely asleep. The vet came in for her and waited for me to hand her over. Compulsively, I began to talk about how long we’d had her and all of the places she had been. The last thing I remember is the vet talking to the sleeping cat as she cradled her in her arms. She said, “you’ve had a wonderful life… I am so jealous of you”. Then she disappeared into the back room.
The nurse/receptionist met me at the desk as I opened my checkbook and paid the very modest fee of only $95.00 for euthanasia and disposal of the body. She told me how very sorry she was and was also kind, making me feel very better, and I left with a weight off my chest. I then drove to the supermarket to buy lots of treats for my kids and myself.
My family and I are still a bit sad today, but life goes on. We have two dogs to continue to give us joy and keep us on our toes, and we actually don’t want to replace the cat. She can’t be replaced. She was awesome, and we will miss her.
