Recent Memory

I'll start this blog with a very recent memory. Last Wednesday, December 27th, I watched as my elderly, widowed, neighbor said good-bye to her beloved cat for the last time. 

It was one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen. I had been helping her bring her cat to the vet's office, and helping her give him medication for about 6 months. He had developed a tumor in his ear canal that was inoperable. It started with his eye not being able to fully open. He lost his appetite too. The vet gave her medication that helped stimulate his appetite, but that eventually stopped working and he started falling over a bit. He hadn't eaten in 2 days when she decided to call Compassionate Care.

My phone rang around 9am. I figured she needed me to come over and help her give him his medication. Instead she told me that she had come to the decision to euthanize Britches. Her voice sounded slow and heavy over the phone. 

I headed over there around 11 and the neighbor that lived behind her was already there. They were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea when I came in. I have a tendency to smile when I'm in an uncomfortable situation. I'm aware of this, so I tried really hard not to smile and I think I pulled it off.

The Compassionate Care worker arrived shortly after. She was in her 50's, dressed comfortably and spoke in a very soft voice. My neighbor, who is hard of hearing, couldn't hear a damn word she said. It was almost comical how her response to everything the worker said to her was, "What was that dear? I'm sorry, can you say that louder?"

"SHOULD WE GO AHEAD AND DO THE PAPERWORK FIRST? SOMETIMES THAT'S EASIER!", she repeated. 

"Oh yes, good idea," said my neighbor. 

After the paperwork was handled, it was time to really say goodbye. I was trying so hard not to cry, but in the end I had tears rolling down my face uncontrollably. We were all crying. All of us except the Compassionate Care worker. I'd imagine that is one of the requirements for the job. Doesn't cry while euthanizing animals is written in the job description. I suppose it's frowned upon in that profession. I suppose that it's something they've become accustomed to. 

I watched as she injected him with something to put him to sleep. Once he was sleeping my neighbor moved to her small couch and laid Britches next to her. The Care giver warned that he might "express his bladder" so it's best to lay him on a blanket that he could relieve himself on. She asked my neighbor if she was ready and reluctantly she said yes.

I watched as she sat next to her cat and gently leaned over him. Her arms around him she cried and told him how much she loved him. That this was the hardest decision she's ever had to make. That she would miss him so much. More than she could ever imagine or express. 

The worker shaved a small patch of fur off and asked if my neighbor would like to save it.

"I'm sorry dear, what did you say?"

"WOULD YOU LIKE FOR ME TO SAVE HIS FUR FOR YOU?"

"Oh yes, please. Thank you"

She placed it in a small, ziploc baggie.

She asked again if she was ready and my neighbor shook her head yes.

She injected Britches with the overdose of anesthesia and we all sat, tears falling fast, as this sweet old cat slowly and steadily took his last breath. 

The neighbor sobbed, we sobbed, and the worker slowly and carefully packed up all of her tools. We stood up and gently stroked his soft white fur and said our last goodbyes. I thanked him for being such a good cat for me while I was giving him his medicine. 

Compassionate Care woman gently placed him in a small pet bed and covered him in a soft yellow blanket. I held the door open for her and we watched her place him in the van and drive away.

I gave my neighbor a hug and tried to figure out if she wanted us to stay, or if she'd like for us to go. I think the behind neighbor felt it necessary to stay so we found ourselves in the elderly woman's kitchen. She offered us some Waldorf Salad and I politely said I wasn't hungry but I'd take some to go. Expecting a spinach salad with fresh grapes and nuts, I watched her pull a giant bowl of a lime green colored mash out of the fridge. 

"Thank god I asked for it to go," I thought to myself. 

Making small talk about work and how hard being a cat euthanizer must be, we sat around her table. I felt guilty about having to leave but Chloe, my dog, needed to be fed and I couldn't help think about my long list of things that needed to be done. So I found an out and headed to my house.