Saturday, when we returned from several days away, it was clearly apparent that both cats were extremely ill. Dart had a palpable lump on his hip and an obvious wound on one paw. Both cats were extemely lethargic and not eating. A short walk with Dodge demonstrated weakness in her hind quarters, she was unable to jump up to her normal perches. Both cats slept and hid under the beds emerging from their dens only long enough to drink water and whine plaintiffly at me. Dodge, in particular, has never been a very vocal cat.
Although, Dart had some symptoms of lethargy before we left, Dodge had barely started demonstrating a low appetite. She’d been out hunting in the sunshine and seemed fine. I thought perhaps she’d eaten a mouse that was moving through her system slowly. Dart had been lethargic (for him), but he was jumping up on the bed with ease and showed no points of pain. His robust purr was in good working order whenever I handled him. I noted the lump and decided I’d take him to the vet when we returned. Neither cat seemed critical enough to warrant a pre-trip vet visit. Their feral natures have always made vet visits very stressful.
Fortunately, Pet Emergency Center in Mount Vernon, Washington, is open 24/7 including Sundays. So adding insult to the cat’s miseries, I got them into carriers and off we went. I knew matters were serious just by how little they fought being placed in the carriers.
Blood work demonstratead immediately that Dodge was in advanced renal failure. Dr. Jane Reynolds was frank. “If this were my cat, I wouldn’t treat. The values are extreme. In attempting to get the blood test, it was apparent that her veins are breaking down.” Euthanasia was the only option. I spent quite a few minutes with Dodge, soothing her and holding her. It was obvious she was ready. She passed very peacefully with her head in my hands. We’ll never know for sure why she declined so rapidly at the age of 13. When you allow your cats the freedom of the great outdoors, there are always risks of exposure to many unknowns – some of them toxic.
Dart could not be effectively examined without sedation. The presumption was that the lump was an abscess. His white count was extremely high. Dr. Reynolds suggested we go home and she would call post-surgically. Unfortunately, the surgery demonstrated the lump was the tip of an extremely large tumor. With Dart’s white count as high as it was, Dr. Reynolds doubted if he would survive the invasive surgery that would have been necessary to remove the tumor. Unfortunately, we had no opportunity to say goodbye. There was no point it bringing him out of anesthetic before euthanizing him as well. I always worried about Dart’s love of traversing the railroad ties that support our ivy. Even though most of the creosote was weathered off the tops, I can’t help but wonder if exposure to those toxins played a role in the development of the tumor. We won’t get more cats until we have an opportunity to replace the ties. Cats are notorious for going where they want to go, not where you want them to go.
There are now two piles of rocks under a large cedar which I can see out the kitchen window. My wonderful friends now lie in repose where they once frolicked and lived life fully. My heart is broken, but I’m doing okay. Part of pet ownership always includes taking the responsibility of not allowing them to suffer. Losing both in one day is almost too much for the emotions to grasp. The house is quiet. I spent quite a bit of time yesterday, clearing cat dishes, bedding, toys and other reminders from the house. It’ll be some time before we’re ready to start again. In the meantime, it seems easiest to not be looking at the memories daily.
I am not religious but I have strong non-religious spiritual beliefs. Loss gets no easier, but my confidence in some variety of continuity grows stronger with each passing year. There may be no guarantees about what happens after death, but certainly suffering is relieved and profound love continues to comfort those of us who must grieve. I like to think death is the beginning of new adventures, I have strong confidence in the benevolence of that grand and final uncertainty.
Dart
Goodbye, my freinds. Thank you for enriching my life. May your new adventures bring you as much joy as you brought to me during our brief time together.
Dodge
“Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!” CANON HENRY SCOTT HOLLAND (1847-1918)
quotation via The Solitary Walker
