kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When old friends get old. Sixteen years ago, I was working a crappy little job in a crappy little store and living in a crappy little apartment and was rapidly approaching the point where I needed a reason to get up in the morning. So when a friend at the crappy little job had terrible news; family getting foreclosed on, house going under the gun, and they were frantically trying to place some of the pets including one year-old orange tabby cat, I said "sure, I'll take the cat", sight unseen, and on Fourth of July weekend, I brought him home. He had double paws and a cocky attitude. After a short period of settling down in my crappy apartment, he was king of the apartment and, of course, King of Creation. And every morning, he gave me a reason to get up; even if it was wailing at me to feed him or curling around my head purring so hard my brain rattled in my head. He's a smart sonofagun. Legends of his exploits are undoubtedly going to pass into Snopes, at some point, because that cat was smarter than most people I know. When he met the Darling Husband, he made it his mission to devil the man; always in a horrifyingly creative way. And always spaced out so Darling Husband never knew what was coming or when. There was the "strolling on the roof" incident. The "surfing husband down the stairs like a surfboard after tripping him" incidents. The burying of socks in the litter box, one of the more pointed commentaries the old bastard worked out. All achieved with a twinkle in his golden eyes. I knew he would get old, eventually. But I didn't KNOW he would get old. Miro is 17, now. Last spring he was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism; always a precise and graceful cat, I knew something was wrong when he staggered like a drunk across the kitchen floor. He was put on meds; while desperately skinny, he was coping well (well enough to put the fear of Cat into the year-old puppy.) And then yesterday he started passing blood. He'd done this before, when young; he had the feline UTI thing that happens with poor food. Having been on a prescription diet for years, though, it was utterly under control. This was something new. So I stuffed him into the cat carrier and ran like hell for the emergency vet, because of course one's regular vet is on vacation whenever these things happen and I came home with a verdict of "we don't know what it is or why, here's pain meds and some antibiotics just in case, watch him" and my old friend is truly, well, old. And I can't explain it to him, just watch and hope he enjoys his old-cat life, which consists of putting fear of Cat into the puppy, and sleeping in sunny spots, as much as he can without pain. Because I can't explain to him, I'm not going to put him through extensive medical procedures; the least-invasive way of making sure he can enjoy life is my goal. I know he's old and I know that the goddess' gift of a Best Friend for 16 years can't last forever. For that is what he is; my Best Friend, always with capital letters. I told you he was smart, dear NonScheduled Readers--this is the cat who always knew when people were sick, and how. If you sprained a wrist, he would want to lie on that wrist and cuddle; for two months after I was just diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, he slept curled around my head (something he had never done before in his life). If you had a stomachache, he would lie on your stomach. He was such an accurate barometer that I knew when folks were faking illness. My dream for him, if it is his time to go, is that he curl up in a sunny spot and drift away to the Summerlands. Life is rarely that neat; I know I have to watch and care and make sure he's not in pain and when the time comes, I may have to take him to the vet and hold him while they stop his valiant, clever, crafty, evil heart. He's smarter than most people I know; I will explain to him and I'm reasonably sure he will understand, but I won't KNOW. And because he's smart, I don't want him to suffer trying to stay with his Best Friend past his time. There will be other cats. There always is; they find us. There will be other friends; cats are like that. This is a decision I'll have to make for other friends; it's part of the responsibility of having a cat or a dog or any other friend who can't always say in English "it's time to go". I know he's smart; I know he'll know. I'm praying that I'm smart enough to see it when it's his time to die, kind enough to do it without causing him more suffering; cruel enough to do it swiftly without hesitation when that's what he needs. I pray I know when he's had enough of pain. I don't want it to be yet. 8:19 a.m. - 2009-02-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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