Sunday, February 19, 2012

Achey Me.

We're spending one on one time with Crackers (our cat) whenever we feel we can. He's up for being cuddled just a little. Mostly he wants to sit on his own, tucked away in the restroom on a towel I doubled up for him. He's moving pretty slowly and the phases our vet explained would happen are taking place. It's troubling letting your pet die on his own; yet, none of us is able to give a go ahead for euthanizing him. Either choice is a hard one...but we're pretty resolved to try comfort measures right now.

I feel bad for the times when he would hop up to be in my way and get some loving that I pushed him off or set him aside so he wouldn't be a nuisance or get in the way of what I was doing. Granted, I didn't do so EVERY time, but the times I did were pretty ignorant of me. It was only a few weeks ago. His decline has been rapid - too rapid - and heartbreaking, but we're trying to give him the dignity we'd give any one of our relatives who is dying by loving him the best we can while he's still among us.

It's the first we've ever done this. In the past, we've had a cat and two dogs who died very unexpectedly so there was no goodbye time, no extra TLC, no being with them through the scary part.

The vet believes Crackers understands what is happening and is doing what comes naturally to cats. We just love him so much.

I've had a horrible time with food all over again - and my ambition is half-hearted with just about everything. I'm sure some of it comes from worrying about and mourning my cat and some of it comes from worrying about my mom and stressing over her world of issues and some of it comes from that lonely feeling that happens when you realize at the bottom of your bottom there is no one to pull you out - it is really up to you and whatever faith you can muster.

If I didn't believe in God, I'd be an even deeper mess. But, I do. I really do. And I pray that we are doing what is right for Crackers and that we are being respectful as we hang with him these last days.

2 comments:

  1. When my wife left, she took both cats. One of them died and I didn't find out until a couple months later.

    I wasn't mad at her for not telling me, though, because I knew how hard it was for her to deal with those last days. Winston was his name. He was very loving and playful...but he would cuss a lot when you told him not to do stuff, for real, he would cuss...cat cuss...like..."meh! eh eh...meh! meh eh! mehehe meh!...hard to describe with typed words, but you could tell he was giving you attitude, ha. Know what I mean? Foul-mouthed cat who loved to love.

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  2. I DO know what you mean. That's pretty great. Being from the Boston area, I can appreciate attitude. Thanks for sharing Winston. :)

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