I go to bed exhausted, I awake exhausted.
I’m barely sleeping, or at least sleeping so light that the slightest motion or noise wakes me.
I want to not feel like puking all the time. I eat as much as I can during the day and before I go home, cause once I’m there I’m too upset to ingest anything.
I want to not have a pounding headache the moment I wake up. (probably a side effect of the not eating/not sleeping/body tension from suppressing sobs)
I can’t really talk about it to anyone as I will A) burst into tears or B) land the ear of someone who doesn’t “get” it and will give me that incredulous eye-rolling look of “it’s just a fucking cat”. My boss being one of them.
He has never had a pet. He has never lost anyone or anything. He doesn’t understand grief. I don’t think he would get that there are physical manifestations of emotions that well up on specific anniversaries, even unconsciously. One day you’re just devastatingly sad for no reason, then you look at the calendar, and are immediately validated for feeling that way.
With each experience, the scab gets picked off, and the “blood” that flows is the memory of all of those previous experiences.
Right now it’s the combo of my mom (rapid decline, slow death from cancer), my nanny (who had dementia, and didn’t recognize me in the final stages) and my grandfather who died peacefully while I lay next to him (he wasn’t really in any pain, just decided he was no longer interested in being here without my nanny (who died 3 weeks earlier) and just went to sleep until is organs eventually shut down)
On top of that, he is the last tie to my father. I got him when I was living with my dad during my divorce. My dad (who “hated cats” ha! NOT) took care of him when I went away to do a cruiseship contract. They were buddies. He was living at my dad’s when my dad died (I was away doing a show contract) and came to live with me when I returned home. I like to think that when he passes on, he will revert to that spunky little kitten, and he and my dad will once again terrorize each other. What I don’t like to think about, is how alone I will feel.
So there you have it. That’s a lot of emotional “blood” oozing from this ripped scab right now.
I guess it’s good that I have a job to “go” to each day. Forcing me to leave the house and provide a distraction. I wish it were a happier distraction.
I am so thankful to be going to a race at the end of the month.
From what I’ve read about animals in their final stages, he has chosen his safe place to spend his final moments. The blessing and the curse is that it is on the floor beside my bed. I’m sure were his back legs still working, he would be on my bed, but alas, they are slowly giving up the ghost too, making it an effort for him to even switch positions, or walk to get water, let alone jump up on anything.
I don’t think he really recognizes me at this point, and really doesn’t want to be pet or picked up, though he is tolerant of a light scratch under his chin.
I am trying not to bother him. I move slowly and speak softly from a distance. I do know he feels safe around me, and it is comforting that he lays beside my bed all night.
I know it would probably be easier for both of us to expedite his journey, but I don’t want his final moments to be a traumatic journey to a vet. He has lived 21 years, and gone to a vet twice, as a kitten. Once to get his “boys” snipped, and once to follow up.
He has been an amazing non-complicated pet. He deserves a peaceful, non-complicated end, at home.
It has been suggested that I get a couple of youngin’s from a shelter after this.
I will have to think about that.
I don’t think I will ever be as lucky as I have been with him. As much as I selfishly will yearn for the companionship, especially as we head into the cold, dark winter, I really don’t know if I want to set myself up for this again. (probably why I am staunchly single, and socially solo all the time… It’s just easier to be alone and not open myself up to getting hurt or losing again)
Of course that said, there are 4 gorgeous kittens in a cage in the window of the vet I walk past in the morning, and it’s all I can do not to snatch one up and take him home… (sucker for cuteness)
anyway… if you made it this far, sorry for being Debbie downer. Just gotta purge this stuff from my brain so I can clear it and function.
I’ll bounce back.
I always do…