Long time, no talk
My mom has decided that they got "enough" of the cancer with her first surgery, and she won't be going back for a second one.
I had to put Rikki Tikki Tavi (my cat of 20 years) to sleep on Friday. He'd been dying for a long time, and was mostly at ease about it, but Thursday night he became very distressed. I was up with him for about four hours before he decided he didn't want to be in my room, and he walked into my son's room. In the morning, Rikki woke me up, crying. He wasn't able to walk. I carried him into my room and he stopped crying and seemed... peaceful. My family checked on him during the day, offering him water and keeping him warm, but he didn't respond. When I got home from work, he was very distressed, crying again. I took him to the vet and had him put to sleep.
The vet was very good. She gave him a sedative and let me pet him for a long time. She asked about how he got his name, and got me to share stories about Rikki. She explained the different ways Rikki might die, and gave him the final injection, and he died.
I cry more in private than I do in front of other people, even loved ones. But I wish.... I wish I could cry without it feeling like it's being ripped from me. I miss him so much. I didn't realize how much of every thing I do was impacted by him. Last night, at Randy's, I cried about the fact that I'm not going to find Rikki hairs in my socks any more. There's no Rikki waiting for me outside my bedroom in the morning. There's no Rikki perched on the cat tower when I get home at night. I know his ghost will come and live with us for a while. All of our pets do. Michael has already seen Rikki on the stairs. But in the meantime, there's no Rikki.
I had to put Rikki Tikki Tavi (my cat of 20 years) to sleep on Friday. He'd been dying for a long time, and was mostly at ease about it, but Thursday night he became very distressed. I was up with him for about four hours before he decided he didn't want to be in my room, and he walked into my son's room. In the morning, Rikki woke me up, crying. He wasn't able to walk. I carried him into my room and he stopped crying and seemed... peaceful. My family checked on him during the day, offering him water and keeping him warm, but he didn't respond. When I got home from work, he was very distressed, crying again. I took him to the vet and had him put to sleep.
The vet was very good. She gave him a sedative and let me pet him for a long time. She asked about how he got his name, and got me to share stories about Rikki. She explained the different ways Rikki might die, and gave him the final injection, and he died.
I cry more in private than I do in front of other people, even loved ones. But I wish.... I wish I could cry without it feeling like it's being ripped from me. I miss him so much. I didn't realize how much of every thing I do was impacted by him. Last night, at Randy's, I cried about the fact that I'm not going to find Rikki hairs in my socks any more. There's no Rikki waiting for me outside my bedroom in the morning. There's no Rikki perched on the cat tower when I get home at night. I know his ghost will come and live with us for a while. All of our pets do. Michael has already seen Rikki on the stairs. But in the meantime, there's no Rikki.