Sad Day

I had to bid goodbye to an old beloved friend today. Friend, confidant, surrogate child, old biddy, familiar, muse, and the only constant in my life for the past eighteen years, my cat-child Brandy made the long journey today.

She was ailing for the past month, and eighteen is ancient in cat years. However, I always hoped she would make it past the latest little complaint and regain her former health and good spirits. It was not to be. She had thyroid problems, an infected paw that wouldn't heal, a sore hip from a misplaced jump to the kitchen counter, arthritis, and was getting dehydrated and eating poorly. She couldn't make it to her bin downstairs so I brought it upstairs for her, but soon realized her hips were too sore for her to climb into the bin - if I caught her in time I could lift her in, but all too often half her pee would be out onto the newspapers lining the floor (this had been happening for a while). Knowing how fastidious cats are about their private business, it was additionally distressing to see her struggling. I also suspected she was going deaf, as often she would either ignore or not hear me calling her until I put a hand on her and she would brrrp? in surprise.

She spent her days in her basket or snoozing on the register. Which is not uncommon for an old biddy-cat, but before she used to seek out a sun puddle or gaze out the window plotting disaster for the local bird population. Now she barely looked up if birds twittered or Daisy cat streaked by, defending her territory from imagined marauding cats outside. Daisy gets quite indignant if neighbour cats enter our yard, and yowls and growls through the windows just to show them what's what.

My poor darling girl. It was time, and I knew it, inside. When the vet arrived today she was shocked at how much Brandy had declined over the past few weeks, since she had been by to look at her paw - the one that didn't heal.

"well, that was pretty strong antibiotic, it should have cleared up her paw. Her immune system is clearly compromised. She's lost weight, she's obviously dehydrated, and you say she isn't keeping her food down anymore. Her hips still have range of motion so it might be an internal problem if she's not entering her bin to pee. We could do more antibiotics, and blood tests, and see what we can find out. We could get her onto some pain medication ...." She paused, not saying the words.

"It's okay. I've been thinking about it. I don't want to put her through the stress of invasive tests, or medicate her needlessly. She's had a long and full life. I don't want her to have a painful and long-drawn death"

I decided to let my sweet girl make the long journey home. I couldn't keep her alive for my sake by increasing her medications, and I didn't want her to slowly erode away and sicken before my eyes. With Samuel to take care of I knew I didn't have the resources to constantly nurse her as I would want to if she were to die slowly and naturally, even with palliative pain reducing meds.

"You're doing the right thing. It's alright to make the decision now. Her body is shutting down, it's only a matter of time. Are you ready, do you need a few days, time to prepare?" One is never ready, never prepared to say goodbye to a beloved soul. A few days would just lengthen the pain of knowing she would be gone. I cuddled my dear daughter and wished her a safe journey home to the Great Mother and the best of new lives in the future. I held her as she slowly fell asleep.

Her little basket is empty, the heat register where she spent her last days is missing its constant companion. The house is bereft. My heart is broken. I shall go sadly for long and long.