I hate that this is the first post I’ve written in a long time, because it’s sad for me. The last few months have just been shit and I’ve been avoiding writing until I have something positive to say. But I can’t skip this one.
Noah called me Saturday morning and told me he was really worried about Phoebe. She was hiding in her closet, not wanting to be social, very lethargic…not at all like herself. She also looked very thin (she was already a skinny cat and couldn’t afford to lose weight). Its fur looked clumpy. All of these things had also happened a few years ago, and he was sure that she was at death’s door. I even made the appointment for her to be euthanized and we all said goodbye to her.
| Saying goodbye to her a few years ago |
Then, the morning of the appointment, he suddenly started eating again and became very cheerful. So we wait. And she got better! Back to normal, Phoebe. She’s done that to us a couple of times in the past few years, so when Noah called me, I wasn’t *too* worried. If it hadn’t been Saturday, I probably would have waited a day or two to take her to the vet. But if something was wrong, I really didn’t want it to happen while the vet was closed on Sunday.
Noah had a date, but I asked his girlfriend, Rose, if she wanted to go with me. She ADORES Phoebe. He has spoiled her badly for the last year and Phoebe was very attached to Rose. I thought that if this was the end of the road for Phoebe, she would want Rose there too.
When Phoebe was weighed at the vet, I was stunned. He weighed only 3.5 pounds (down from 5.5 a couple of months ago). He looked like a skeleton with hair. Normally, she would have meowed all the way to the vet and then fought to stay in her carrier instead of being examined, but it seemed like she was very tired and didn’t care what was happening.
The vet said that his kidney disease had progressed to the point that there was really nothing we could do. They could give her fluids, which would probably help her for a couple of days, but then we’d be back in the same place. And I realized that Phoebe was in pain; It was even difficult for him to walk. I asked the vet what he would do if it were his cat and he kindly told me that euthanizing her would probably be the most loving thing we could do for her at that time.
He left Rose and me to talk about it and we were devastated. In the end we agreed that it was best for Phoebe. The last thing I wanted was to be with her when the vet gave her the medication because I knew that would crush me, but again, I wanted to do what was best for Phoebe and I wanted her to feel loved until the end.
In 2009, one of the women in the MOMS club I belonged to said her sister had a stray cat that needed a home. At that time we only had one cat, Chandler, and we decided to take her. She was about a year old and had just been spayed (she was pregnant at the time, which breaks my heart). We realized he must have had a difficult life: he was missing half his tail and had a bullet embedded under his skin. The way his tail was bent at the end felt like maybe it had been slammed against a door.
 |
| This was the day we brought her home. |
She was extremely skittish around people (which was understandable), but over time, she warmed up to us. She and Chandler were also friends.
She desperately wanted to be an outdoor cat (coming and going as she pleased) and we let her do that for the first few years. However, he was once absent for a long time. I was sure it had been eaten by a coyote or something in the woods across the street. He obviously made it home alive, but it was probably the closest thing to death he had ever experienced. I wrote all about it in this post: “And then there were three”. After that, she was strictly an indoor cat, unless we took her outside on her leash. However, she was known for sneaking around!
What I liked most about Phoebe was that kind of “sixth sense” she had. I have had many cats throughout my life, but none of them were as intuitive as Phoebe to other people’s emotions. She was VERY empathetic. Whenever he felt that I was upset about something, he was very insistent on being as close to my face as possible. It was like he could look right into my soul. She wanted to snuggle into my chest and rub her face against mine. It didn’t matter where I was in the house or what I was doing; If he heard me crying, he would run to me. I felt a special bond with her because of that.
 |
| After my skin removal surgery (and my jaw surgeries), she was attached to my chest. |
And that’s why I wanted to be with her when she went to sleep for the last time. I let Rose hold her on her lap and continued stroking her head and telling her she was okay. I wanted to comfort her like she always comforted me. The vet then inserted the medications into her catheter and I could see her instantly relax. She rested her head on my hand. The vet listened to his heartbeat and told us he was “at peace.”
I know it was the best thing for her, but it was still very difficult to achieve. Phoebe was the cat that kept coming back. Honestly, when I took her to the vet that day, I was sure she would drink some fluids and be the old Phoebe again, after scaring us all again.
I’m so glad I made the decision to let her live with Noah and Rose for the last year. She was SO happy there as the only pet. She no longer had Chick and Duck bothering her all the time and she had regained her appetite. He even gained a little weight. Every time I visited her, she seemed very happy, which made me happy. And I loved seeing how pampered she was.
It’s so hard to believe I was 18 years old. I have never had a pet that lived this long; Chandler was 14 years old when he died. Estelle is now 17 and Joey is 11. Where does the time go?
I’ll really try to write soon, even if I don’t have anything positive to say right now. xo
