One of these days I am going to learn that I must write down my premonitions. On Monday of this week, I was sitting at my computer, when I had absolute and total clarity, I knew with no doubt whatsoever, that one of my cats was about to die. I almost posted about it, but I decided I didn't want to sound like a kook.
Yesterday at one point I went into my bedroom, where Ringo the cat is sequestered. And I looked at him. He was laying peacefully on the bed, looking at me. And there was this calm about him. It was like an unseeable aura of peace and contentedness. And he was looking me right in the eye, as if he was trying to tell me that he was happy.
This morning I woke up and found him sprawled on the floor, in a puddle of urine. He was nearly unresponsive, and seemed to be suffering from seizures. He is an old timer, plus he has had pretty severe diabetes for the last few months. I realized that it was time to say goodbye. I called the vet and told them I was on my way in with Ringo, and that he needed help passing on.
I gathered him into a towel, and cradled him close. His eyes were mostly unseeing, but they did flicker up to my face very breifly, and I saw him make the tiniest attempt at kneading against my arm. It was as if he was saying to me "Thank you for caring for me, but it's time for me to go."
We got to the vet's office, and they administered the final injection. "Don't be afraid, darling," I whispered to him, as the rosy fluid disappeared into his little leg. "Don't be afraid, little angel... you'll never hurt again." He went in less than 30 seconds. The vet left the room and let me hold him for a few minutes longer. I gently eased his eyelids closed, and cuddled him close to my chest.
I decided not to bother with cremation or a memorial of any sort, I simply asked the vet to dispose of the body in a sanitary fashion.
I do feel sad, but at the same time, I feel satisfied in knowing that I gave him a loving home and tender care for the last years of his life. I saved him from being put down two years ago, when his old owner was no longer able to keep him. I had him when he was diagnosed with diabetes. I administered the twice-daily shots of insulin. I endured his odd moods and temper tantrums. I gave him my bedroom, because he didn't like my other cats. I loved him.
Goodbye, Ringo. Darling Ring-Ring. My little bedroom angel. May you be safe, whole, and without fear or pain wherever you are, now.
Yesterday at one point I went into my bedroom, where Ringo the cat is sequestered. And I looked at him. He was laying peacefully on the bed, looking at me. And there was this calm about him. It was like an unseeable aura of peace and contentedness. And he was looking me right in the eye, as if he was trying to tell me that he was happy.
This morning I woke up and found him sprawled on the floor, in a puddle of urine. He was nearly unresponsive, and seemed to be suffering from seizures. He is an old timer, plus he has had pretty severe diabetes for the last few months. I realized that it was time to say goodbye. I called the vet and told them I was on my way in with Ringo, and that he needed help passing on.
I gathered him into a towel, and cradled him close. His eyes were mostly unseeing, but they did flicker up to my face very breifly, and I saw him make the tiniest attempt at kneading against my arm. It was as if he was saying to me "Thank you for caring for me, but it's time for me to go."
We got to the vet's office, and they administered the final injection. "Don't be afraid, darling," I whispered to him, as the rosy fluid disappeared into his little leg. "Don't be afraid, little angel... you'll never hurt again." He went in less than 30 seconds. The vet left the room and let me hold him for a few minutes longer. I gently eased his eyelids closed, and cuddled him close to my chest.
I decided not to bother with cremation or a memorial of any sort, I simply asked the vet to dispose of the body in a sanitary fashion.
I do feel sad, but at the same time, I feel satisfied in knowing that I gave him a loving home and tender care for the last years of his life. I saved him from being put down two years ago, when his old owner was no longer able to keep him. I had him when he was diagnosed with diabetes. I administered the twice-daily shots of insulin. I endured his odd moods and temper tantrums. I gave him my bedroom, because he didn't like my other cats. I loved him.
Goodbye, Ringo. Darling Ring-Ring. My little bedroom angel. May you be safe, whole, and without fear or pain wherever you are, now.
