A part of me died today.
Denial...it comes in waves.
And I'm sure it will linger for years to come.
A part of me that I can still hear...and feel...and see.
Two days ago, Grrrlie had a little hairball problem. This would happen from time to time. Malt-flavored hairball remedy always did the trick.
Except, this time...it didn't.
The next day...she was still having an issue. So, I gave her more remedy and a snuggle and assumed it was nothing.
Yesterday...she was acting a little off. By around 10pm...she was acting downright freaky. Drinking lots of water...not really interested in walking more than a few feet before resting.
I stayed up late...working on a project and keeping an eye on my little girl.
Around 1pm she got up to get water...and she stumbled a little. By 2pm...she was stumbling a little more.
By 2:30pm, I was looking up the local emergency animal hospitals.
Brought her in at 3pm...at 6pm they had her results.
Both of her kidneys were failing. They could try to flush them out...but, the x-rays showed one large stone in her left kidney...and her right kidney was too small to pick up the slack.
We opted for a catheter, a saline flush, antibiotics, and painkillers.
At 8am we moved her from the emergency vet, to her regular vet office...where they confirmed our worst fears.
There was no hope.
In fact...any further attempts to prolong her life were almost guaranteed to fail.
All the odds were against her...as she'd be lucky to live another hour or two.
We had wanted to bring her home to die. Wanted her to be home and safe and relaxed...but...that was really just what *we* wanted for her.
Her illness had made her effectively unaware of her surroundings and situation. She wasn't feeling pain...and she was still purring.
At 8:30pm...we wept in vain...and knew we had to let her go.
I sat alone with her in the office. I needed to be alone with her, again. Like the first time we were together...the last time we were together.
I held her softly, as she laid upon the hand-knittd blanket my mother had made for me. The same blanket she's laid upon for our long drive from Chicago to San Diego.
I held her...as she purred weakly. Her temperature was dropping...her heart was failing.
And I sang to her.
Broken and defeated...I sang to my baby. And she purred louder...and louder...and leaned back against me. Her body cooling...her purrs loud and content.
And the doctor came and administered the medication...which slowed her breathing and stilled her heart.
Up until the last beat...she purred. She purred and leaned against me.
And I felt complete.
She was happy.
Up until the sad, sudden end.
Happy as she could have ever been.
My sweet, sweet, little love.
I just can't believe she's gone.
And I'm sure it will linger for years to come.
A part of me that I can still hear...and feel...and see.
Two days ago, Grrrlie had a little hairball problem. This would happen from time to time. Malt-flavored hairball remedy always did the trick.
Except, this time...it didn't.
The next day...she was still having an issue. So, I gave her more remedy and a snuggle and assumed it was nothing.
Yesterday...she was acting a little off. By around 10pm...she was acting downright freaky. Drinking lots of water...not really interested in walking more than a few feet before resting.
I stayed up late...working on a project and keeping an eye on my little girl.
Around 1pm she got up to get water...and she stumbled a little. By 2pm...she was stumbling a little more.
By 2:30pm, I was looking up the local emergency animal hospitals.
Brought her in at 3pm...at 6pm they had her results.
Both of her kidneys were failing. They could try to flush them out...but, the x-rays showed one large stone in her left kidney...and her right kidney was too small to pick up the slack.
We opted for a catheter, a saline flush, antibiotics, and painkillers.
At 8am we moved her from the emergency vet, to her regular vet office...where they confirmed our worst fears.
There was no hope.
In fact...any further attempts to prolong her life were almost guaranteed to fail.
All the odds were against her...as she'd be lucky to live another hour or two.
We had wanted to bring her home to die. Wanted her to be home and safe and relaxed...but...that was really just what *we* wanted for her.
Her illness had made her effectively unaware of her surroundings and situation. She wasn't feeling pain...and she was still purring.
At 8:30pm...we wept in vain...and knew we had to let her go.
I sat alone with her in the office. I needed to be alone with her, again. Like the first time we were together...the last time we were together.
I held her softly, as she laid upon the hand-knittd blanket my mother had made for me. The same blanket she's laid upon for our long drive from Chicago to San Diego.
I held her...as she purred weakly. Her temperature was dropping...her heart was failing.
And I sang to her.
Broken and defeated...I sang to my baby. And she purred louder...and louder...and leaned back against me. Her body cooling...her purrs loud and content.
And the doctor came and administered the medication...which slowed her breathing and stilled her heart.
Up until the last beat...she purred. She purred and leaned against me.
And I felt complete.
She was happy.
Up until the sad, sudden end.
Happy as she could have ever been.
My sweet, sweet, little love.
I just can't believe she's gone.