The loss of my kitty
Two weeks ago, Film Series : The Cat, informally known as FS, passed away at the age of 19. She had stayed amazingly healthy right up until early last year, when she showed signs of kidney disease. Even then, she had few symptoms until she began to rapidly decline over the last couple of months.
As difficult as it was for the family to face the loss of our kitty, I made the decision not to seek any invasive or uncomfortable treatments that would only prolong her life, rather than bring her back up to a comfortable plateau. When she began rejecting all food, even with anti-nausea medications, the veterinarian and I agreed that it was time to let her go, rather than force feed her or let her starve, and she was euthanized while I pet and held her.
FS was part of my life ever since I graduated college, and every day, I catch myself acting as if she is still there, from not wanting to leave the door open too long in case she is in an escaping mood, to hesitating before drinking from a water glass that had sat somewhere she could have reached and helped herself. I loved her very much and still do. The speed at which she declined was both a blessing, in that there was not a long time period where she lingered before the decision that had to be made was clear; and a curse in that it gave us relatively little time to emotionally prepare for her loss.
My son and I have taken comfort in sharing our memories and in planning a small memorial book to keep with her cremains. He had originally wanted a cat shaped urn for her, perhaps a 'lucky cat' in the Asian style, but decided that the lovely cedar box she was returned in was sufficient. The care and sympathy that the vet clinic and crematorium have both shown has been a kindness to both of us.
As difficult as it was for the family to face the loss of our kitty, I made the decision not to seek any invasive or uncomfortable treatments that would only prolong her life, rather than bring her back up to a comfortable plateau. When she began rejecting all food, even with anti-nausea medications, the veterinarian and I agreed that it was time to let her go, rather than force feed her or let her starve, and she was euthanized while I pet and held her.
FS was part of my life ever since I graduated college, and every day, I catch myself acting as if she is still there, from not wanting to leave the door open too long in case she is in an escaping mood, to hesitating before drinking from a water glass that had sat somewhere she could have reached and helped herself. I loved her very much and still do. The speed at which she declined was both a blessing, in that there was not a long time period where she lingered before the decision that had to be made was clear; and a curse in that it gave us relatively little time to emotionally prepare for her loss.
My son and I have taken comfort in sharing our memories and in planning a small memorial book to keep with her cremains. He had originally wanted a cat shaped urn for her, perhaps a 'lucky cat' in the Asian style, but decided that the lovely cedar box she was returned in was sufficient. The care and sympathy that the vet clinic and crematorium have both shown has been a kindness to both of us.
