My kitty of 15 years is dying. Of course we’re all dying with each new day and I’m not trying to be dramatic but it’s true. She’s not in any pain and she still follows me around the house meowing and chattering at me. As if to say I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere yet.
Still I couldn’t help but cry when my mom told me what the vet had told her over the phone. You see her liver isn’t working properly which they think is the result of an allergic reaction to her thyroid medicine. So why not simply take her off the thyroid medication? Because thyroid problems whether in humans of animals can be deadly if not treated and you will eventually die.
So what do I do? Choose the way I want my cat to die? There is of course a treatment that could save her life. A $1000 shot for her thyroid much like a chemo shot for humans. At least that’s how the vet explained it. Either way it’s something I cannot afford. Which is heartbreaking within itself.
Besides the fact that I love her what makes it challenging to say goodbye is there’s also the fact that this cat has been with me through everything. As silly as it sounds she has been my rock in many ways. When we got her when she was 6 weeks old she wanted nothing to do with myself 6 year old self but as I got older that changed. By the time I was 14 she had claimed my room as her own and spent most of her time in it. And as she has grown older she has become attached to my hip. Greeting me with a meow as soon as I walk through the door whether I’ve been gone 5 hours or 5 whole minutes.
When I was 14 and began self-injuring and battling depression she was there. As I laid in my bed during the day lacking motivation to get out of bed and exhausted from my new diagnosed of mono she was there. She has been with me through everything. My new diagnoses of bipolar disorder II and social anxiety at 16, my eating disorder that stemmed over 7 long years, Grandma Sharon’s death.
Whenever I would be in my room perched on my bed, crying in the dark she was there. Purring and talking as she rubbed against me as if to say I’m here for you. And when I would wake up from nightmares in my teen years (a result of coming off certain medications too quickly.) she would be there. Nestled in my pillow, purring in my ear.
I think that’s what I’ll miss the most when she is gone. Not her begging for food every night or her greeting me at the door but her sharing a bed with me. My mom dislikes it when the cats purr in her ear when she sleeps but I find it so reassuring. It is a reminder that I am still here on this earth, it grounds me. She also likes to burrow under the covers, curling into my stomach before falling asleep. She is my little heater doing the cold winter.
I know death is a part of life and it probably makes me look bed when I say that I’ve cried harder over my Emma than Grandma Sharon but we had a year if not more to prepare ourselves for Grandma’s death. Emma being sick is so sudden and she could only have a few weeks left. I wasn’t ready for this news.
Saying goodbye is hard and has never been my strong point but it is part of life. I know there is some argument as to whether animals go to Heaven but I can’t image my kitty simply not existing once she is gone. Why would God create such wonderful animals simply to not acknowledge their worth and right to eternal life? They live through hardship, although a bit different just like the rest of us.
I just don’t want to say goodbye. I’m not ready. I fear I never will be.