R.I.P. Bob
On Sunday, Nick and I were watching Resident Evil Apocalypse. Laughing at how ridiculously over the top it was. He went into the bedroom, then came back, looking pale. He said, "I've got some bad news. Bob is dead. He's on the floor. He's not moving."
I don't know what it is about the phrase "I've got some bad news..", but I always think he's joking when he says it. But he never is. I slowly made my way into the bedroom. I honest to god thought he was joking, it couldn't be real. Bob looked like he was sleeping in a pile of clothes. But when I rolled him over, his paws were stiff. He didn't feel cold. I wanted to do something. I started massaging the area around his heart. I contemplated giving him CPR, even though the rational side of me knew it was too late.
We were so not ready for this. We had taken him to the vet because he was panting. They said it was probably allergies. Turns out he had sudden heart failure. Panting is one of the symptoms of Cardiomyopathy. There isn't really any treatment or cure for it. Just happens, and it's really sudden. It's somewhat common in Ragamuffins. He was about 9 years old. We thought we had at least 4 or 5 more years with him.
I've been crying all day. I've been going back and forth between trying to distract myself, looking at pictures of Bob, and remembering him. It feels so empty in the house without him.
Nick has been trying to put off thinking about it. He even put his dresser in our closet. His dresser is where Bob's been sleeping for the last month or so. But something will come up and he'll just break down. Like when he saw me looking at pics of Bob, or when he found some of Bob's cat hair on the bedspread. When he does talk about it with me, it's a kind of litany of how much he blames himself.
As for myself, I feel guilty that on the morning of Bobs' death, I grouchily removed him from the top of MY dresser (he knocks things over constantly) and kind of tossed him on the floor. Ugh. Makes me feel like shit. But I think we gave him a really good life.
We buried him out in the backyard with his favorite toy and a picture of us, so he wouldn't be alone. Nick plans to plant a patch of catnip right above him. He looked like he could've been asleep in that box. It feels so wrong that he's outside in the ground and not in here with us.
I have a job interview over the phone tomorrow, but I'm having a hard time caring.
I don't know what it is about the phrase "I've got some bad news..", but I always think he's joking when he says it. But he never is. I slowly made my way into the bedroom. I honest to god thought he was joking, it couldn't be real. Bob looked like he was sleeping in a pile of clothes. But when I rolled him over, his paws were stiff. He didn't feel cold. I wanted to do something. I started massaging the area around his heart. I contemplated giving him CPR, even though the rational side of me knew it was too late.
We were so not ready for this. We had taken him to the vet because he was panting. They said it was probably allergies. Turns out he had sudden heart failure. Panting is one of the symptoms of Cardiomyopathy. There isn't really any treatment or cure for it. Just happens, and it's really sudden. It's somewhat common in Ragamuffins. He was about 9 years old. We thought we had at least 4 or 5 more years with him.
I've been crying all day. I've been going back and forth between trying to distract myself, looking at pictures of Bob, and remembering him. It feels so empty in the house without him.
Nick has been trying to put off thinking about it. He even put his dresser in our closet. His dresser is where Bob's been sleeping for the last month or so. But something will come up and he'll just break down. Like when he saw me looking at pics of Bob, or when he found some of Bob's cat hair on the bedspread. When he does talk about it with me, it's a kind of litany of how much he blames himself.
As for myself, I feel guilty that on the morning of Bobs' death, I grouchily removed him from the top of MY dresser (he knocks things over constantly) and kind of tossed him on the floor. Ugh. Makes me feel like shit. But I think we gave him a really good life.
We buried him out in the backyard with his favorite toy and a picture of us, so he wouldn't be alone. Nick plans to plant a patch of catnip right above him. He looked like he could've been asleep in that box. It feels so wrong that he's outside in the ground and not in here with us.
I have a job interview over the phone tomorrow, but I'm having a hard time caring.