"...all things considered"
what a fucking phrase.
first off, i've been ugly-crying for about five days straight. to sleep, to wake up, in the shower, in the car, on the porch, all of it.
missing brak so badly i can barely function.
also, for all the times i said "sure, give me a month off, that'd be great"..... thanks universe. it WAS great except that for the last six weeks i've been dealing with an ill, elderly kitty who meant more to me than i have words for. and so yes, i'm basically by myself all the time and yes, school is starting in 2 weeks and yes, it's NICE to not have to answer the phone but fuuuuuck this depression is crushing all my walls in. i overfill my day with lots of housecleaning, shit that i've wanted to do for a long while, like properly sort my hard drives and gmail, and perhaps i'll be mid-vacuum, but then the crying starts.
and it doesn't stop.
it'll catch me off guard and i collapse against a wall, or onto the floor. sobbing.
so, i'm excited to start school mostly just to get in a routine that isn't set by me. and if it wasn't for this giant hole that's been ripped open in my heart, i'd be quite content with my work/life situation.
at least i saw it coming, at least i had lots of quality time, at least i gave him the very best care i was able to, and at least i was there with him at the end. it was calm, peaceful.... he simply went to sleep. the vet was extremely kind.
[ friday ]
that morning, i never stopped giving him love or attention. i gave him his calm water (a lovely plant based liquid to mix into fresh water); he'd not been even eating treats that morning. i pet and brushed him, i carried him - even outside, for just a moment. he loves the breeze but even today he seemed confused by it. knowing later that the fluid in his lungs made it hard to breathe, i understood that it was better that we weren't out there long. he tried to sniff the breeze but it seemed to exhaust him.
he was so shaky that morning, my poor baby - i knew that if the vet hadn't been scheduled, nature would have taken him soon after, with a greater chance of less kindness. i let him roam the house while i made the bedroom quiet and cool, making the space more comfortable and open than even it had been for the last month. i had sage, a green tara, a tiny crystal elephant, and a playlist.
Kitty Om - YouTube
Gate gate paragate parasamgate boshisvaha
www.youtube.com
during the moments i had the house to myself, i laid down on the floor next to him and pet him while singing along with the mantras. i let him hear words that have been said for many ages. i tried to put all my broken parts aside and radiate healing energy to him, to somehow... i don't know. i just wanted him to be comfortable and happy and know how much a part of me and my life he has been. there are, were, no words.
after a time, i carried him to my desk. a bowl of water was there and he kept falling asleep into it. maow, that's not how we're livin', i said. the only thing within arm's reach was a whiteboard eraser, a thick one, so i put it by his head and he immediately rested his chin on it, nap imminent. the medicine buddha mantra played from my PC speakers, not loud enough to disturb but audible. i like to think that feeling the words and music vibrate the desk just a bit helped us both. some kind of tangible energy. maybe healing. please, just a little more time.
i folded clothes and sat next to him, right in this very chair, petting him every few moments and using the corner of the towel to dry off the parts of his fur he'd get wet from having in the water too long. i cleaned his paws; brushed him gently. he deserved to look his best when it was time for him to go.
i don't think he ate any treats. maybe one. lord knows i tried... and i took a few photos too, telling him that look, did you not expect a camera in your face? it's been happening since you could fit in my hand.
the vibe was that he'd been waiting, waiting for grace or mercy or me.
we had ... perhaps an hour together, just like that. music, pet-pets, my quiet tears; his fur was so soft - as always. the breeze blew in the window, bringing the outdoors here to him; giving him those last moments of happiness. i hope. i knew he loved being at the window here by my desk, so i tried my very best.
at ten of, i knew we only had moments left. i think i posted online. there was this feeling of pleading..... please, please just a few more minutes. i'd been stuck in a stagnant state over the last several weeks - just get better or worse or SOMETHING, not this terrible stale non-progression of fighting him to take his meds every day. twice a day. the pharmacy was kind enough to rush me the compounded order - check it out moo, no more pills! just liquid! we can do this, you can do this, good kitty, good boy. my heart broke a little more every time.
[ wednesday ]
the last time i gave him a dose, the day before the day before i decided, i thought i'd killed him. he laid, panting, down on his side. i went numb. i tried so hard... too hard. and i'd been deciding over the past week when it would be time to make a few different kinds of decisions.
but no, it was just a panic attack or some kind of episode. kidney disease and anemia and heart failure all wreaking havoc inside of a Very Good Boy whose seventeenth birthday is the 14th of this September.
[ thursday ]
the next morning i woke up to the sounds of his meows, which is always lovely - got out of bed to see him lying flat on his tummy, front paws out straight in front of him, chin to the ground. my heart crumbled. later it seemed that the most likely thing was that he'd fallen because one or both of his back legs hadn't quite worked right. the weakness exhibited so much more often so much more recently wasn't to be ignored, so i continued to try my hardest to make everywhere soft to lay on.
he did finally get up - i helped him to his kitty bed, pet him, sang a bit, tried to keep him calm. i brought him treats, and an ice cube in his water - that all was quite fine, thank you very much.
i made a phone call.
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[ friday ]
the breeze came in the window, and i continued to pet him. in between folding shirts or shorts, i told him all the variations of the fact that he was the best kitty in the world EVER of ALL TIME, and i'd like to think i heard a few purrs. i knew he didn't have a lot of energy or breath to spare, but there may have been the tiniest ruffle.
shortly past eleven, the vet arrived.
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paperwork. crying. silent crying, so as not to make it worse.
the vet showed for a "quality of life checkup, with .....potential aftercare."
the results of his checkup were exactly as i expected.
she was extremely kind.
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i stayed in the bedroom for a moment as the vet collected her things.
more petting, more kisses.
just me and The Maow. my good boy - petting, hugs, top-of-the-head snuggle headbutts. a stroke of his paw; the softest.
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she stepped outside to allow for a decision to be made.
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the tiniest setup - plugged in my phone, found the right section of the playlist. nothing had to be moved around as i wanted to be absolutely sure that he was as calm and comfortable as possible. there would be no need for furniture moving, nor any extra pillows. i sensed no change in his energy from the rest of the morning.
terrible things began happening in my mind. i suppose it would be something i would consider my finest "event coordination". extraordinarily personal, emotional, and as smooth as something this intensely awful could go. it felt like a dance recital, a production, an opera, a Scene.
i had a horrible feeling of being the phantom of the opera.
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i sat in the other room with jason while the vet did some non-paperwork things. we both wept.
then we went to say goodbye.
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as we saw him relax with the sedation (before 'final' injection), there was a bit of confused energy ....... mom? what is this lady doing? but i hugged and pet him, told him that he was my heart, my love, told him that this nice lady was going to take the very best care of him, that she would be good to him and things would be so much better. no more meds, kitty. no more stupid meds, no more feeling bad.
i sang to him, tiny humming of mantras, words and sounds whispered directly into his ears. i'd spent the night before giving him more pets and hugs than he wanted, but i only stopped to cry. i took the time to make a playlist. i slept a few hours.
there was the feeling of him waiting. waiting for us to leave the room, i think.
she'd said sedation took about 20 minutes to take effect. morphine plus, with a nice mix of painkiller and ....vitamins, or anti-inflammatories, or some other variation of Heavily Sedated that some people will pay a lot of money for.
right then, i'd have paid all the money in the world if someone could make him his vibrant old self again.
the silly orange sweater i was so proud of - that i crocheted! for him!! - was within arms reach. i didn't want him to be cold, and i wanted him to feel even more snuggled, so i carefully laid it on him.
more snuggles; his fur was so soft. yes, moo - this lady will take good care of you. she's very nice, you'll love her; she's wonderful and will be very kind to you.
a final kiss, a final hug, a final mantra, a final whisper.
my sweetest kitty moo: you have always been the Very Goodest of Good Boys - i love you.
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i sat out on the back steps while the vet gave the last injection. for once, it wasn't terribly hot or humid. all things considered, it was a lovely friday morning.
as much as i wanted to hold him for those last seconds, i didn't want to see anything possibly go amiss. i suppose now that i could have handled it - what's an extra spoonful of heartache when i have to eat an entire bowl of shit? but for the rest of my life i'll be my own Sisyphus of sorts: hold him for those last few moments until he is no more than a corpse, potentially in discomfort that i will irrationally blame myself for, or have the last image of him in my heart and mind being one of him slipping off into the most blissful sleep, given the last of my best goodbyes, but tended to by a stranger?
fear won out: the thought of seeing any added pain or ugliness on top of the loss of my fur-baby was too much.
if there had been a sudden bad twitch, or strange meow of pain.... i don't know. none of that seemed likely, but i suppose..... i have to be kind to myself at some point as well. he was going on an adventure which i could not follow, and so i felt that.... i had to say goodbye, to allow him his own new freedom, having ...given my blessing? for this nice new lady to help him on his first steps? i thought of her as an airline stewardess.
kittums: where you go, i cannot follow.
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i sat on the steps, feeling the breeze that he loved. i couldn't feel anything else.
at just about the time she was finishing up and leaving the house, a butterfly passed me - the breeze carrying him off to new adventures.