Good Bye.

Saturday, March 31, 2012- 1:50pm

I’ve never had to put a pet down before. I think the closest I’ve ever come was hearing about a pet I once had being put to sleep. I thought it would be an easy decision considering my boy’s health and age but it wasn’t.

My Big Boy has been sick for a while. He was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism about two months and has been taking a pill (now up to a pill and half) every day since then. When I first noticed he wasn’t well and took him into the vet I thought for sure I was going to have to put him down right then. But being the survivor that he is my boy came out just having to take a pill. I told the vet we would try the medication but if it didn’t work and considering all he’s been through plus his age I would have to consider euthanasia. She understood and we started the medication. After a month of sneaking the pills into pocket treats (the best pet invention EVER) and any other way I could think of giving him the medication; we went back to the vet. They drew more blood from my Big Boy and as always he took it like a champ. A few days later the called and said there was some improvement in his condition. A little improvement is better than nothing so I took it. The vet decided to bump up his medication to a pill and half then we would come back in a month to see how he was improving. Another month goes by, more blood is drawn and more results come back. This time the results were different. He had gotten worse.

While the vet was going over the results of the blood test and my options all I could think of was, it maybe his time. When actually faced with the reality of having to decide whether my Big Boy lives or dies I started to breathe a little harder and my eyes started to well. As I was on the phone I looked down at my Big Boy and thought about all he’s been through. He’s been my friend through a lot. When we first got him, he had already been hit by a car (which is how his former owner found him.) With a piece missing from his ear, bones reset he was nursed back to health by his former owner (who happened to be a vet tech) and given to us. At the time I was in a relationship but he was clearly my cat and when that relationship was over he came with me. He’s helped me through that break up and many other hurdles I’ve had to face. Do I have the right to decide this for him? How could I let him get worse? How could I let him suffer because I don’t want to make this decision? It was clear he was a survivor. He’s survived being hit by car, pancreatitis, having teeth and various growths removed. At fourteen to sixteen years old (no one knows his true age but I’ve had him for eleven years) he’s deaf, thin, frail and arthritic to the point he can’t hold up his tail. He’s been through enough, fought enough and he deserves a rest.

I told the vet I needed some time to think about what I wanted to do. After a week of mulling it over (constantly), living with him, listening to him wail, cleaning up his messes and watching him become more sluggish I decided it was his time. It took me a while to work up the nerve to call the vet’s office and make the appointment. When I called I had to consider options I never thought of; do I want to be in the room with him? How do I want his remains disposed of? How soon do I want to do it? I thought it would be easier than this. But no one said life’s decisions were going to be easy. The day is set, the time is set and even though it’s probably for the best, I still feel awful.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012 – 4:20pm

It’s relatively short ride to the vet’s office but today it seemed like it took forever. The Big Boy doesn’t handle ca rides well, even short one. He either pees, poops or throws up in the carrier (sometimes all three.) Today he only threw up but for the last few days since I made the decision to put him down he’s pretty much got to eat anything he wanted or begged for; That all came up in the carrier.

I thought I could go to work today, leave early, pick him up and all will be done. But when it came down to it, it wasn’t that cut and dry. I slept all of two hours last night thinking about what I had decided and what will happen. Then when I got up this morning Big Boy and the Fat One were waiting outside my bedroom door as usual. I looked down at his face and started to cry. I couldn’t leave him alone all day and then just pick up to be put to sleep. So I called into work and explained to them what was going on. Luckily, I have an understanding boss and I stayed home with my Big Boy on his last day on this earth. It wasn’t a big day for us. We did the usual things we did together; he lay in my lap while I was on the computer, he curled up with me on the couch, he got tuna for his lunch today and treats anytime he begged for them. As the time grew closer I was preparing the last bit of tuna for him. As I stepped over to get the can he was right under foot and I tripped over him. I accidentally knocked him with my foot which sent him sliding into the cabinet head first. I felt terrible! When I reached for him to see if he was all right he ran away from me. He’s never run away from me before. I think he knew what was going on. After a bit of coaxing I picked him up and held him. He snuggled back a little bit to let me know everything was ok. After he finished his tuna, I brought him over to the Fat One so she could say good bye, loaded him up into the carrier, put him in the car and we took our last ride together to the vet.

When we got there the waiting room was full and there was nowhere to sit. I let the receptionist know we were there for our appointment and she said the vet would be with us shortly. This was not something I wanted to wait for. I crouched down to the carrier and put my fingers throw the holes to scratch behind Big Boy’s ears so that he would know I was there. I felt so bad, not only did we have to wait for this to happen but the poor thing was stuck in carrier that he was just sick in. I almost cried twice in front of everyone in the waiting room. After a bit the receptionist said we could go into examining room one. So I picked up the carrier and took my Big Boy down the last green mile.

Once we were in the examining room I took the Big Boy out of the carrier and started to clean him off with some paper towels. As I was wiping him off the nurse came in to explain the procedure and the paper work I needed to fill out. In this whole process it never occurred to me there would be paperwork. The nurse offered to take him in the back to clean him up and the carrier while I filled out the paperwork. As I was filling it out I got to the section about what to do with the remains and started to cry. I thought of almost nothing but this for the past few days. I didn’t have any land to bury him in and I didn’t want him part of a mass cremation. So I checked individual cremation and that I wanted the remains back. I figured I would go to the park and release his ashes to the wind. His soul would be free now; the rest of him should be too. When the nurse came with him, I wiped my nose and took him into my arms. I started to cry again and the nurse did a little as well. She tried to comfort me by telling me it’s never and easy decision but usually it’s for the best. I still felt awful and guilty.

Soon the vet came in while I was still crying and explained to me what would happen. It was a peaceful procedure and he would feel no pain. She asked if I wanted to stay in the room while they injected him to put him to sleep and I said no. I didn’t want to see him die, that would have been too much. This was hard enough as it was. I did ask to see him after it was over so I could say good bye to him. She understood and gave us a few moments alone together before she would take him. When they left I started to cry again. I almost changed my mind but when I saw how weak he was, frail and tired I knew he deserved a rest. I held him for awhile in my arms and we snuggled some more. I told him how much I loved him, what a good friend he was and how much I would miss him. I think he understood as he laid his head on my shoulder and nuzzle. After a few minutes, I knocked on the door and the vet came back to take him away. Tears ran down my face as she took my Big Boy to the back. For one brief moment I had a notion that this was just another appointment and she would bring him back then we would go home. But while I was waiting I began to realize he was never coming back and I was going home alone. After a while the vet brought him back wrapped in a baby blanket. He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping. I started to cry more than before as I petted him for the last time and said my good bye. I knew he was in a better place, a place where he could lift his tail again and could hear birds chirping; a place where he’s no longer suffering or in pain. The vet asked if I wanted some more time but I said I was ok and she took his body away. The nurse cleaned the carrier for me and wrapped his dirty blanket in plastic. Then I paid my bill and went home.

The Fat One greeted me when I got home and I quickly scooped her. I hugged her and explained that her buddy wasn’t coming back, that it was just her and I now. She let out a squeak (she doesn’t meow), cuddled me and started to purr. As I’m typing this it still hasn’t really hit me that he’s gone. I won’t hear his meow or purr. His face won’t be the first thing that greets me when I get home. When I’m feeling bad he won’t snuggle up to me anymore or when I’m feeling I won’t be able to hug him anymore or share me secrets with him anymore. He was always there for me, he was my friend, my buddy and I will miss him. Sleep well my Big Boy...Rocky.