I haven't been able to look at my blog since she died. Sometimes I try to peek, but I see her picture and the tears start to flow.
I wanted to write, however, about that day, the day she died. I had gotten up in the morning to go to work, and I offered her a fresh, open can of tuna. She turned her head away. I knew then I had to do something. At the time, I wasn't thinking of euthanasia; I just wanted to get her to a vet and I thought maybe they could put an i.v. in her or something (to hydrate and nourish her).
In the early afternoon at work, I was able to get an appointment for a cat doctor to see her. I went home at 1:00 and I picked her up from where she was sitting (she was still in the same place as when I left her at 8:00 am) and took her upstairs and put her on my lap. I patted her rump, something she always liked, and waited for the appointment. I even fell asleep at one point. Had I known then that that would be the last time I would have her on my lap, I wouldn't have slept! I would have cherished every moment.
When it was time for the appointment I put her in her carrier and told her, "no matter what happens, YOU WILL FEEL BETTER". In the car I told her how much I loved her, how pretty she was, and I sang to her the Bug-Bug song (where I chant Bug-Bug-Bug, Bug-Bug-Bug etc. to the tune of Jingle Bells). I often sang the Bug-Bug song to her (from her name, Ladybug) since the time I got her.
Normally on trips to the vet, she would protest (meow or jiggle the door), but this time she just sat there, her beautiful eyes looking out the windows. I will never forget that.
At the vet, she didn't like when the vet was examining her. She tried to get back in her carrier. When the vet was finished, she gave it to me straight: Ladybug was at death's door and would probably not live another two days. At the moment, she was not in much pain - but she would be soon. She was jaundiced, dehydrated, anemic, and weighed only THREE pounds. When the vet palpated her abdomen, she couldn't even tell the organs apart - the cancer was seemingly growing them together into an indistinguishable mass. I knew this was it.
As soon as we decided that she was to be euthanized, Ladybug laid down on the examining table looking around. She was so calm. I was wondering why she wasn't trying to get back in her carrier. Maybe it was just because the vet was no longer touching her, I don't know. While the vet went to get the paperwork for me to sign, I crouched down and talked to her. I asked my guardian angels to please look after her. I asked Ladybug to please come and visit me. When I was talking to her, she looked straight at me, and then looked above my head and then to her left. I wondered if she could see anything, or was she just looking at the posters on the wall??
The vet injected her in her hind end, and then placed her on a towel and handed her to me. I sat with her until she was asleep. She was in a deep sleep, and the last time I ever saw her was when the vet took her from me and I saw that her eyes were wide open, yet she was asleep. In another room the vet administered the final injection and then came to tell me she was gone. It was probably the most devastating thing I had ever gone through. Not even the deaths of my grandparents or a friend from high school affected me as much. I cried as I have never cried before. When I got home my husband was afraid to leave me (he had an evening meeting to go to) for fear I would do something to myself. He had a friend call me to make sure I was ok.
I am grieving deeply for Ladybug. I miss her so much, that sometimes I don't want to live without her. I know I must. I have people and other animals that need me. But I wish I could just be in spirit too so I could be with her. I cry almost daily. What is also distressing is that I had asked for her to visit me when she was in spirit, but I have not detected anything from her. Not even a dream. My husband said that one night he could feel a cat walking on him (NOT my other cat Cricket - she weighs 15 pounds and he would have known the difference) and the other evening he saw a cat jump on a table out of the corner of his eye, but there was no one there when he looked directly.
If that is her, why is she not appearing to me? I do want to believe that this life is not all there is, but it is so hard to when you don't see/hear/smell/sense any evidence.
On top of all this is the guilt I have for various reasons: 1) I should have tried harder to help her. When she was first losing weight I should have kept questioning what the vets were telling me (her blood tests were always perfect, so they told me it was probably nothing to worry about) and 2) I should have paid more attention to her. When I got the dog, I was so tied up in all his health problems that I virtually ignored her. And 3) I am grieving for a cat, when there are thousands of people dying every day in this stupid war in Iraq, in Darfur, Afghanistan, you name it. Also the hundreds of thousands of people that have no place to live, or live below the poverty line, etc. etc. I could go on and on.
So grieving for a cat may seem silly, but it is my reality and it HURTS.
5 comments:
Pamela,
So sorry to hear about Ladybug. She knew you were there with her at the end. That gave her peace,and it should give you peace.
I hope she has peace. I don't yet, but hopefully I will someday.
Oh Pam, I am so sorry to hear about your darling Ladybug! I know how devastating it is to lose a pet! I'm still grieving my Sugar Bear gone now 5 years! I've sworn not to acquire anymore because I can't bear the heartbreak when they inevitably leave!
Lady B WILL visit you when she's ready!! I believe your husband has seen her and was chosen to pass the message on to you. Animals know when grief is so fresh and nascent that to appear would be to salt an already horrible wound!
Do yourself a favor and put up a little altar to her with flowers and candles and the beautiful picture you have of her pretty tortoise shell face. Visit it daily. It will help you.
Blessings,
Dina
Dear Pam,
It is wierd how animal people can feel for an animal that they have never even met. Your post made me cry like she was my own. I am sorry for your loss. I understand the pain and not wanting to live another day. Cia's death made me not want to wake up to see another day. I didn't think it was possible to live with that type of pain.
Although people say the pain lessens with time, it never really leaves. Now almost a year later, I still find myself watching the doggy door waiting for Cia to come say hello.
I am sorry for your loss...there are others that need you. Ladybug will always have a place with you ...time can never take that away. Some won't understand this, but I imagine a small part of heaven that has all my animals just sitting around waiting for me to come. I really do look forward to that day.
I understand about the guilt of you not thinking you did enough. I have that in a similar situation. But I know deep down that she (Kali) loved me unconditionally and understands I did every thing I could within my means, just as Ladybug does for you. She is smiling down and you and waiting to see you again in the future....how great that will be.
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