January 16, 2013
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He was not waiting for me at the bed room doorway this morning.He did not escort me to the bath room, walking along ahead of me at about half the speed I wanted to go.
He is not curled up around my feet, or on the reflective-heating pad over the tool box in the window, just behind my head.
I am not trying to make anyone cry: I knew this time was coming. I could see it in the unkempt coat, his putrid breath and the bones that were jarringly evident under my hands when I petted him. He had lost balance and coordination until defending himself from Annie’s invitations to play made him cry with frustration. There were times when I found him hunched on the couch because something hurt too much to lie down. I wanted him to make it to 20. Yesterday I watched him for a while, and my inner voice said, “What are you doing? This is slowly waning survival, this is not quality of life.”
I took him to see his vet. He did not like the ride in the car and voiced a number of complaints. He did not like the ride into the office. He did not like the receptionist. He did not care for the room where I took him out of his carrier.
“I’d like to go home now,” he said to me, “I was having a fine nap on the tool box before you started messing with me.”
I held him, talked to him, stroked his fur. I assured him I would see him again soon, that he and Joshua could wait just beyond the door for me and I would be along before they knew it.
“Screw this,” he said affectionately, “I’m going home.”
He swore at the vet who tried to shave his leg.
She gave him a sedative because “I don’t want to fight with him.”
He zoned out. Some. Not entirely.
He growled at her while she shaved his leg.
Like the true curmudgeon that he was, he did not go gentle into that good night, but raged, raged against the dying of the light.
I expected nothing less.
Comments (5)
Again, I’m sorry for your loss. If ever a cat was immortalized in words and photos, it was Babycakes.
xoxoxo
Justin said it perfectly.
I love you sister,
*~matthew~*
This is a sad event indeed…
I know you did not intend to make me cry, but I did cry. I needed to cry. Babycakes was a force to be reckoned with and you captured that. What you did was the hardest and kindest thing a pet owner can do for their animal. I cried for the loss of Babycakes and I cried for the incredible sadness and loss you must feel. Give yourself permission to grieve and to tell the stories, we will all listen and if we cry, it is right and proper. Love you.
@michigay – What Mitch said..
Now I’ve teared up. I started reading you Cheryl, before you had dogs; when Babycakes was your sole furry companion. I’ve loved his words and thoughts and deeds that you’ve relayed through the years. I’m truly sorry for your loss…