Today, my cat died in my daughter’s arms. She had renal disease, as I posted HERE
My house is too quiet. My heart is too wounded. You love so much, and it hurts so much. Yet life goes on when you don’t want it to. In sum, life sucks at these moments.
WHAT I MISS ABOUT MY KITTY
- I miss her meowing for milk every time I opened the fridge door.
- I miss her meowing for food.
- I miss her laying on plastic bags, cardboard boxes, clothes, and whatever else was on the floor.
- I miss her purring on my lap.
- I miss petting her.
- I miss having to worry about putting food up because she would jump up and eat it.
- I miss her curiosity.
- I miss her darting out an open door every time one opened.
- I miss finding her on the front porch at 3 am cause she darted out and got left.
- I miss her catching our mice.
- I miss her sitting outside on the back patio.
- I miss her helping me roll out.
- I miss her helping me do handstands.
- I miss her helping me workout.
- I miss her. Period.
My cat has lost weight recently and has not been eating.
We took her to the vet.
Diagnosis: kidney (or renal) failure.
Prognosis: not good.
There are things we can do to make her comfortable: give her fluids, change her diet, maintain low-stress environment.
But, ultimately, she’s dying. She could have months. Or a year.
Yet, somehow, I’m grateful.
Grateful that I know so we can not take her for granted. Grateful I can love her more. Grateful for the years she has given us.
This doesn’t mean it’s easy. It’s never easy to watch a pet die. I’ve held two of my dogs in my arms when they were dying. And I knew a little ahead of time it was coming.
The worst part is the helplessness of it all. Not being able to help. To make her better. To do anything. Except hold her and love her and cherish her.
While she’s here, we’ll make the most of it.
Love her till death and beyond.
We love you, dearest Emerald.