It was a week ago today that I had to make that very tough decision. Sunny was not doing well. It had been several days since I had seen him eat anything (and months since I had seen him eat more than a few small bites). He wasn’t drinking as much water as in the previous days.
His was time was coming.
What did it for me was walking into the bedroom and finding him on the floor. Gabe and I had just been having another shouting match on the phone. So I was rather angered, but that all turned to dispair when I saw him. He had obviously fallen off the bed and was laying on the floor a bit twisted up. I honestly thought I was going to pick up a corpse…that it had happened and he was gone. I literally jumped when he moved. I got him all righted and took him out to the living room where he could have a comfortable place to lay without having to get up and down off furniture.
That had been our fear, that he’d fall and hurt himself and at that point would be suffering in pain.
I broke down again. Got ahold of Gabe, told him what was up. Told him I thought it was time to make the call. He told me to go ahead with it.
I procrastinated for several hours. Logically I knew it was the right thing to do. But my heart didn’t want to lose him. Felt selfish for wanting to keep him around when he clearly had a low quality of life with no chance of improvement. Felt selfish for wanting to give him peace, because I kept having that thought of “I” don’t want to see him like this anymore.
But it was the right thing to do. Gabe finally prodded me into action and I scheduled the euthanasia for that evening. While I was waiting to hear back on confrimation, I took Sunny outside to lay in the sun for the last time. While we were out there he started having some problems. Wanted to walk somewhere, but couldn’t lift himself. I helped and we made it a few feet. Then he laid back down. I picked him up and held him for a bit. Was going to bring him back inside where it was warmer. His back arched and he pee’d on me. Then was having difficult breathing again like when I got him straightened out from his fall.
Gabe came home and Sunny’s breathing got better. At that point I had confirmation. Sunny only had a few more hours with us.
HIs dad held him the whole time. Those were the hardest hours… knowing that each tick of the clock meant it was that much closer to having our kitty forcibly put to death. I don’t want to use euphemisms here. I scheduled his death and it was a very difficult thing to put myself through, even knowing it was the best thing I could do for him. I don’t like having that kind of power over something. But I know it’s a situation I’m going to face again… at least three more times in my life.
The sick feeling in my stomach when the vet’s van pulled up is something I won’t soon forget. The couple hours spent petting the cat and watching the clock did not prepare me for the inevitable consequence of my decision.
She was here, and Sunny would not be much longer. Props to the vet though. She was very kind and thorough. Gave me a hug when I offered my hand to shake.
The rest went pretty routine. She explained what to expect, what she was gonna do, and gave us a few moments to prepare. Then came the injections and Sunny finally didn’t have to be trapped in a failing body.
Today is the first day I’ve cried about it since we buried him. I find myself avoiding my own back yard. Everytime I look out the window I find myself looking for him. I want the trees and plants to mourn is absence, but nature isn’t like that. The backyard goes on unphased, but the cat that ruled over it is no more.
I miss him. I hate my back yard for not sharing that sentiment… ridiculous as that is.