My cat had her final vet appointment last Thursday. She was 18 years and 8 and a half months old. We adopted her at 2. It's been rough.
This is the first time I've lost a pet without still having another pet I was strongly bonded with.
There are layers to this grief.
I miss having a cat around. A little creature that loves me and tries to order me around and purrs and makes the house feel not so empty.
More than that, I miss my cat. The click of her claws on hardwood and tile. How she meowed when I wasn't sitting where I was supposed to be. How she would gently bump my hand with her head when she wanted cheek scritches. How she'd trill whenever I pet her. How she'd run to greet me whenever I got home from work or school. How she'd leave my mom's lap to snuggle me instead. Her love of quilts and refusal to lay on non-quilt blankets. The demanding meows when I had chicken or fish or pork but hadn't given her any.
All the unique little ways she used to say "i love you best"
...She had a long, slow decline that sped up right at the end
Her kidneys started having issues when she was twelve, but that was easy enough to take care of
She started developing arthritis a little after that, and though medication helped, she steadily became less mobile
Her hearing began to go last summer. She would you'll when her people weren't around. I never realized how much comfort she took from the ambient sound of our existence.
January is when her mind began to go. There had been small signs earlier that things weren't quite right, but nothing like the disorientation and confusion in the new year. She also started sleeping on me at night. A sweet routine from a cat that used to only cuddle me in bed during daylight hours.
Mid- to late- March and we could see her getting worse by the week. At some point she starts trying to keep the top of her head completely covered when she sleeps curled up. As a loaf, her head falls forward like she can't keep it up, which now I only recognize in hindsight.
First week of April and she was entirely unbothered by seeing a neighbor's cat out on the deck. Nonchalance from a cat that would fluff up and try to break through the glass door to chase off any cat that crossed her vision.
First week of April reaches the weekend and she's no longer visiting me at night. She'll still happily snuggle me and join me for mid-day naps or let me carry her up to nap in bed.
Second week of April starts and she stops eating at some point. Barely visits the litter box. She's forgotten where her water dish is and tries to drink out of the toilet by dipping her paw in and licking the water off. Eventually she figures out her water after we put her next to it and keep it completely full. Tuesday morning she doesnt try to get me out of bed to give her treats. Shes happy to eat them but she doesnt remember our morning ritual. Tuesday night and she walks near her litter box, squats, and there's a red spot on the carpet. My mom and I quietly stare at it, neither wanting to verbalize what it means.
I call the vet Wednesday morning before work. They have two times available on Thursday: 10 am and 4 pm. I choose 10 am because I can't bear to force her to suffer through another day just for me to put off the flood of grief, though it had started the night before. Wednesday and Thursday's weather was beautiful: sunshine all day and temperatures warm enough to open all the windows. The least I could give her was fresh air and sunshine.
At work, I let them know I might not be in on friday. "Probably my cats last vet appointment" I tell them. It was a lie, of course. Deep down I knew she wouldn't be coming home afterwards. But it was a lie that let me get through most of the day without breaking down. I leave work early. I have an office appointment at school a bit later, and I want to take a nap with my cat. It turns out to be the last time we truly cuddle.
I carry her upstairs with me and she is so, so light. She'd always been around 5 pounds but now it was like she was only fur and bones.
Laying in bed with her on my chest I realize she isn't purring. That I haven't heard her purr in a few days.
I missed the last time she ever purred for me. When was the last time, I wonder? Did she stop because she no longer had the energy? Or did she simply not process I was petting her?
During my school appointment, I say that I might not be in class the next day because it was probably my cats last vet appointment. I nearly break down there. Somehow I manage to get to the book store to order my cap and gown for graduation. I sob as I drive home.
Mouse is resting in a sunbeam. Occasionally moving to a chair near her water. Sometimes quietly howling at it like she's thirsty but can't drink. If I set her next to it, she either stares then leaves or drinks for minutes at a time.
Every once in a while, I try to carry her to the cuddle spot. She always leaves, even after the sun has gone down. How much of me did she remember or recognize, I wonder?
Sometimes I hear her meow from odd places and in the present I realize she had started to die, and was looking for a safe place to wait for the end. She always returned to the sunlight chair.
At some point I email the professor for my evening class to say I wouldn't be attending that day.
Mouse ignores me for the rest of the night.
The next morning she's a little better. Her mind might be half gone, but by god she recognizes the sight of her treat bag. I dump it out all out. Then I get her a special wet food treat. She manages about half before wandering back to her sunny chair. A little later she goes back for another couple locks.
She moves to her chair by the back door even though there's no sunlight. I pet her and her the weakest little trill and a bittersweet grief fills my chest. Some part of her still knows who I am, but at the same time she is so, so weak.
That was the last spark of her personality I ever saw. She was completely oblivious to being at the vet. As relaxed as she was at home.
I don't think she would have survived long enough to make it to the 4 pm appointment, she was so far gone already.
I miss her so much. We have a cat tower but no cat to use it.
I moved her favorite things to the basement. To see them, knowing I would never see her on them demanding attention was too much. Moving them hurt, too. Acknowledging that she's truly gone.
Home is so empty without her. I'm honestly relieved that I'll be moving out soon. My parents are planning to adopt new cats around June, but they won't be her.
I wonder if I'll ever bond with another cat. How do you move on when a piece of your life ends? My most constant and supportive companion for the last 16 years is gone.
Mornings are better than nights. And sunny days hurt less than rainy ones. One day I will be alright. Until then I sit with grief and hold her hand.
Aug. 1, 2004 - April 13, 2023
