He whimpers.
His jaw is deformed, swollen with infection, leaving only a slit at the front in which his tongue can comfortably lie between his two teeth.
I looked in his eyes and told him that today, he will have no more pain, and we said goodbye.
His matted fur didn't seem right for his usually pristine coat.
There was no point in me cleaning him today.
No primping.
No prodding.
No suffering for his already tormented body.
I simply told him he would be free.
Last night, I dreamed his body was only bones, with not a muscle in sight.
Decayed.
He cried to me in pain.
I knew it was his spirit asking me to help him leave.
When I woke this morning to his whimpering, I invited him up on the bed for our last visit before people came to our door and the insanity of workers in my yard took all my attention.
He came willingly.
He knows it's time for a farewell.
He seemed peaceful in the knowledge that he will be eased soon.
I held my hand in such a way, that I could only see him from the nose up, as his eyes and ears still remain a part of the cat that I have known for these years of friendship.
I didn't want to look at the image he has become.
I looked at him as he was.
Psycho Kitty! Terror of the neighbourhood!
Not one cat would pass our yard, because it was his territory alone.
When my cats moved into HIS house, he was indignant as he stalked them through windows, eyes wide, ready for the kill.
He marked every window and every door with his scent, in the form of a turd gift, meant for my cats to know that this was his house, and eventually, he would find them.
They would be his prey.
Now, he is timid toward all creatures, knowing his strength is limited to eating and walking to the litter box.
We haven't seen him drink water in days.
However, even in his dying days, he still eats voraciously.
Nothing could squelch his appetite.
He still purrs louder than the healthy cats.
That sound, coupled with his food intake is confusing, as it makes us think he must still be fighting.
In our hearts, we know he isn't.
I could see it in his eyes today that he's searching for peace.
I begged the angels to tell him he would be receiving it today.
Today, we lose him.
Today, the angels gain him.
He will visit all those who have risen to the angels and they will welcome him into their peaceful realm.
One day, one beautiful fortunate day, I too will visit this realm.
I will be a part of him, and all the others who have left a whole in my heart.
Each one that passes doesn't get easier, yet it doesn't get harder.
It is just painful in the same way it is when each of them leaves.
Grief.
One of the workers saw me cry today and I had to say it out loud, "Mi gato, se está muriendo," but I had practised the sentence, so he understood fully.
These men who work for us are really quite lovely. They have good hearts.
So, it's ok to cry today.
I allow myself to feel these feelings.
His jaw is deformed, swollen with infection, leaving only a slit at the front in which his tongue can comfortably lie between his two teeth.
I looked in his eyes and told him that today, he will have no more pain, and we said goodbye.
His matted fur didn't seem right for his usually pristine coat.
There was no point in me cleaning him today.
No primping.
No prodding.
No suffering for his already tormented body.
I simply told him he would be free.
Last night, I dreamed his body was only bones, with not a muscle in sight.
Decayed.
He cried to me in pain.
I knew it was his spirit asking me to help him leave.
When I woke this morning to his whimpering, I invited him up on the bed for our last visit before people came to our door and the insanity of workers in my yard took all my attention.
He came willingly.
He knows it's time for a farewell.
He seemed peaceful in the knowledge that he will be eased soon.
I held my hand in such a way, that I could only see him from the nose up, as his eyes and ears still remain a part of the cat that I have known for these years of friendship.
I didn't want to look at the image he has become.
I looked at him as he was.
Psycho Kitty! Terror of the neighbourhood!
Not one cat would pass our yard, because it was his territory alone.
When my cats moved into HIS house, he was indignant as he stalked them through windows, eyes wide, ready for the kill.
He marked every window and every door with his scent, in the form of a turd gift, meant for my cats to know that this was his house, and eventually, he would find them.
They would be his prey.
Now, he is timid toward all creatures, knowing his strength is limited to eating and walking to the litter box.
We haven't seen him drink water in days.
However, even in his dying days, he still eats voraciously.
Nothing could squelch his appetite.
He still purrs louder than the healthy cats.
That sound, coupled with his food intake is confusing, as it makes us think he must still be fighting.
In our hearts, we know he isn't.
I could see it in his eyes today that he's searching for peace.
I begged the angels to tell him he would be receiving it today.
Today, we lose him.
Today, the angels gain him.
He will visit all those who have risen to the angels and they will welcome him into their peaceful realm.
One day, one beautiful fortunate day, I too will visit this realm.
I will be a part of him, and all the others who have left a whole in my heart.
Each one that passes doesn't get easier, yet it doesn't get harder.
It is just painful in the same way it is when each of them leaves.
Grief.
One of the workers saw me cry today and I had to say it out loud, "Mi gato, se está muriendo," but I had practised the sentence, so he understood fully.
These men who work for us are really quite lovely. They have good hearts.
So, it's ok to cry today.
I allow myself to feel these feelings.
i embrace the rhythm and the flowing of my own heart
I'm sorry. It's so hard to lose a loved one, and grief is a proper response. Hugs and good thoughts!
ReplyDeletegood thoughts brought good endings. and it's not over yet.
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