It's over...
Nora's going to die, and there's nothing any of us can do about it. She'll be put to sleep sometime around 7pm tomorrow evening, with me and Anne by her side, ushering her from this life to the big kitty playground in the sky.
It may be ridiculous for me to say this, but I believe all animals go to heaven, and exist as they were meant to exist there. Lamb together with Lion and Wolf, Cats and Dogs all with someone to love on them and erase the memories of sickness, neglect and abuse that any might have unfortunately had in this life. God just claims them all and takes them up into his lap and loves on all of them, as he will those he knows as his own children one day. I have faith that I'll see Nora again, and she'll be happy and playful, and everything she was and is in this life, without the hindrances of stones and fractured hips and infections and that, and most importantly, she'll remember me and Anne, and the love we tried to show her every day we had her, right down until the very end, when the decision was made to take her life to ease her pain and suffering.
I know this is the way things were meant to happen, that all things happen for the greater good of God...but it doesn't make it any easier for me. When I took Anne to adopt another kitten for Pixie to play with, she didn't choose Nora. I did. Or perhaps she chose me. At the humane society, she climbed the chain link in her kennel all the way to eye-level with me, just hoping to draw my attention, which needless to say she did. When she was set out of her kennel to play around a little, she kept running around all over the place, leading us on a chasing game it seemed, but she licked and gently chewed my fingers when I picked her up, and then I knew.
When we picked her out, the shelter worker said that she had a history of infection and not wanting to go into the litter box. But that didn't matter to me, or to Anne. We could tell that she wanted to go home, and she wanted to go home with us that day. Two years later, countless dollars of both mine and Anne's hard-earned money spent to care for Nora and her needs...and I struggle with the notion that it was all in vain. I know it wasn't, but I have the worst time accepting that I can't do anything to save her anymore. I know she's in God's hands now, I know this is the best thing for her, but it doesn't make it easier. All I can do is try my best to remember the good times I had with Nora, and the love Anne and I had for her, and the same that I know she had for me and Anne, and the great life she was given for nigh on two years. By this time tomorrow...that's all Anne and I will have left of 'our' Nora.
Nora
9/15/03-8/10/05
I'll see you again someday, little one. I love you.
It may be ridiculous for me to say this, but I believe all animals go to heaven, and exist as they were meant to exist there. Lamb together with Lion and Wolf, Cats and Dogs all with someone to love on them and erase the memories of sickness, neglect and abuse that any might have unfortunately had in this life. God just claims them all and takes them up into his lap and loves on all of them, as he will those he knows as his own children one day. I have faith that I'll see Nora again, and she'll be happy and playful, and everything she was and is in this life, without the hindrances of stones and fractured hips and infections and that, and most importantly, she'll remember me and Anne, and the love we tried to show her every day we had her, right down until the very end, when the decision was made to take her life to ease her pain and suffering.
I know this is the way things were meant to happen, that all things happen for the greater good of God...but it doesn't make it any easier for me. When I took Anne to adopt another kitten for Pixie to play with, she didn't choose Nora. I did. Or perhaps she chose me. At the humane society, she climbed the chain link in her kennel all the way to eye-level with me, just hoping to draw my attention, which needless to say she did. When she was set out of her kennel to play around a little, she kept running around all over the place, leading us on a chasing game it seemed, but she licked and gently chewed my fingers when I picked her up, and then I knew.
When we picked her out, the shelter worker said that she had a history of infection and not wanting to go into the litter box. But that didn't matter to me, or to Anne. We could tell that she wanted to go home, and she wanted to go home with us that day. Two years later, countless dollars of both mine and Anne's hard-earned money spent to care for Nora and her needs...and I struggle with the notion that it was all in vain. I know it wasn't, but I have the worst time accepting that I can't do anything to save her anymore. I know she's in God's hands now, I know this is the best thing for her, but it doesn't make it easier. All I can do is try my best to remember the good times I had with Nora, and the love Anne and I had for her, and the same that I know she had for me and Anne, and the great life she was given for nigh on two years. By this time tomorrow...that's all Anne and I will have left of 'our' Nora.
Nora
9/15/03-8/10/05
I'll see you again someday, little one. I love you.