and it feels like the world has grown cold now that you've gone away
We had to say goodbye to my cat Ozzy the other day. 17 years is a pretty good long life. Of course I was hoping he would make it to at least 20, but things don't often go the way we want. I'm still very sad, but it helps me to write everything down, so here goes. (TW animal death)
He got so thin and frail at the end, it was hard to see but it wasn't time yet. It would have been too hard on him and not fair to try to keep him going any longer. The last year had been pretty rough; he had some bad teeth removed last year, and then he had a liver infection that recurred several times, so there were many trips to the vet to do blood work, but he took it like a champ and the other vets commented on how nice he was. Before all of that he was never really sick in his life. He might have had lymphoma, and I think he was anemic at the end because his paw pads turned from black to kind of pink. The last vet wanted him to be more stable before they would check for that though, and really I think I'd rather not know for sure anyway.
But he was pretty happy and snuggly right up until the end and his eyes were bright and alert even though he obviously didn't feel good and stopped eating. That's how you know when it's time. As long as he was still eating some there was hope. There were several nights I wasn't sure if he would make it through the night.
So when Eric got home from work Monday night we discussed things, and then I called my mom Tuesday morning and said I would bring him. I didn't want to wait until he could no longer get up or was soiling himself.
Eric couldn't go with so I took him to work, then drove to my mom's with Ozzy. So we got there and my mom sat in a chair with him and I held him for the sedative shot, and then she held him and talked to him while he went to sleep. I petted him and told him he's the best cat ever and I loved him. Then she set him on the chair and I sat in another chair close by while she gave him the final shot.
Then later our neighbor George came over to help us bury him. My mom had put the stallion Rhapsody down a week and a half earlier, so there was still fresh dirt to dig. I bundled Ozzy in a small blanket and carried him outside and set him down in his grave and sobbed some more.
I didn't think I would be able to do any of that, because I've always had such a hard time with animal death and I could never stay close when it happened; I thought I'd be too much of a wreck. I guess we never really know what we're capable of until the time comes. But my mom appreciated being the one to do it, and I think it was the best possible way for it to go. I suppose I stayed by as much for her as I did for him.
It was always my biggest fear that he would go downstairs and hide in the basement and pass away and we'd never find him, so I'm glad that didn't happen. I'm glad he was here through my dad's passing and everything that happened over last year.
I kind of don't think he would have made it as long as he did had I not been home so much these last few years to watch him so closely; he would have been very lonely. He loved me as much as a cat could love a human I think; he helped me with my depression and anxiety so much. He was the light of my life and I still can't imagine my life without him. They give us everything, and we do the best we can for them. I miss playing Skyrim with him in my lap. (My computer hasn't been able to run Skyrim or other games without crashing for some time now though.) He was my first indoor cat.
Poor Frostbite is sad too. She's not wandering around looking for him and crying, but she's kind of mopey and not eating as much. I'm really glad I'm self-employed so I can be here with her while Eric is at work and we can comfort each other.
The hardest times are at night getting ready for bed, when Ozzy would come in and snuggle up to me in bed for a while, sort of like tucking me in. And then in the morning coming out to the living room to see him and him not being there. I cherish every day we had together, even the hard ones. I keep thinking I'm going to turn around and see him there, but he's not. I suppose that will continue for a while too. I have so many photos of him; looking through them helps too.
My anxiety got so bad I could hardly eat or sleep, but I feel better now. I've got some alcohol too; I know it's not healthy but it does help me to cope and I don't overdo it.
We'll be bringing another cat at some point, probably Andy, but we aren't sure when just yet. But soon.