I have joined a fantastic group of ladies, who are involved in a weekly blog project. Every Thursday, we will dazzle you with our insight on various topics. And each week, we take turns coming up with the idea for the blog topic. Please check out their blogs as well, listed under my Blogroll section. Just click on:
Froggie (Tracey): One frog’s distinct voice on the world around her.
Merry Land Girl (Melissa): Tales of a suburban mom who likes to talk about pop culture, books, Judaism, family, friendship and anything else that comes to mind.
Mom Of Many (Susanna): One Mom’s perspective on life, raising kids, knitting and other unrelated topics.
This week, Susanna’s choice was: When the going gets tough the tough ______? What do you do when things are out of control to make yourself feel better?
I feel as though my morning events very much tie into this topic. I had debated waiting to write anything. Take some time. But I need to do this.
This morning, I had to euthanize my cat, Tank. It wasn’t something I wanted to do. The x-ray dangling in front of me said otherwise. My poor cat had a very large mass inside his stomach, larger than a softball. It was pressing against his other organs. I had brought him in due to vomiting, more than the standard hairball, customary with cats his age. Due to everything inside him getting squished, that accounted for his issues. He had also lost a substantial amount of weight. I had hoped it wouldn’t be the big “C” word.
But, the vet (who has taken care of Tank for 10+ years) told me that it was inoperable. If he even attempted to remove something of that size, Tank wouldn’t make it. And, I’m not one of those pet owners who will make my animal suffer for my own good. The vet told me I should put him to sleep TODAY, because Tank was suffering and in pain. If not today, sooner than later.
I was completely beside myself. I was holding Nolan while I started to cry, and the vet rubbed my shoulder consolingly. He gave me a minute alone, so I could figure out what I needed to do. He suggested I go home, and come back. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing Tank home again, only to drive him on that awful ride back to the vet office, and do the procedure then. Tank hates, HATES riding in the car. He hates the vet. I also didn’t want to leave Tank, go home, and then come back later. I don’t know if I could do it. I didn’t want to puss out on him. I didn’t want to get so emotionally wrought that I’d call the vet office and say, “I can’t do it, just do it and stick him in a box.” These are the things that happen when your heart hurts brutally. Even over a pet. Tank deserved better. He’s always been a great cat. He deserved for me to be there.
So, the vet sedated Tank, and I got to rub his head and pet him, and tell him I loved him, and how great he was. One of the vet techs held Nolan for me, and took him out to the waiting area to play with some toys, and I had some alone time with Tank. This may sound stupid, but I recalled a few memories and told them to him. As he started to drift off a bit, I recounted:
His toy glove, that we’d sprinkle a little bit of catnip on, and he’d go nuts. He always knew to lunge just at the glove, and he’d attack that thing full force.
When I’d put a sock on his head, in his younger years. I’d do that out of spite on occasion, when he’d been really crazy and I thought he needed a “punishment”. I know, it wasn’t very nice, but it was damn funny!
His bear lunge; a sideways jump that he’d often do in front of a sliding door,watching his reflection. He’d race towards the door like this, running sideways, and then run away, thinking he was running into another cat.
Tank was famous for his acrobats; while chasing a laser light, he’d jump so high trying to get it. I wish I had the picture on my computer, but if you ran the light up the wall, he’d lunge after it; I’ve never seen a cat jump and soar so high!
There are many more, but I only had time for a few stories, before the vet injected him with a small vial of pink fluid. He looked up and said, “he’s gone.”
They wrapped him in a towel, and placed him in a box for me. We are going to bury Tank. He was always hanging out on the deck, and really seemed to love it out there.
I had imagined what it would be like, when I had to put my cat to sleep. My sister had recently gone through this experience, and I always imagined I wouldn’t become as affected as this. That since having my human babies, it would be easier to let go of my fur baby. But, it’s really hard. For one thing, I’m used to having him meow and talk constantly to me. It’s what he did. When I’d sit on the couch, he liked to sit with me, or at least be in same vicinity as me. I was used to feeding him, scooping his litter box, making sure he had fresh water. These were routines that I have done for so very long. How do you stop doing that?
He really was a great cat. I can’t help but miss him.
When the going gets tough, I do what needs to be done. Tank deserved nothing but the best, in my book. I had to do what was right for him. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.