saying goodbye to my furbaby.

On October 5, while the internet was exploding with the news of Steve Jobs’ seemingly-sudden death, I was sitting in an exam room at the emergency veterinary clinic, being faced with a seemingly-sudden death of my own.

Monster #1, Louie, had gotten increasingly lethargic over the last day or two, and I got him an appointment at the vet as soon as I could. He was dehydrated, and his test results were conflicting. They recommended I take him to the overnight emergency vet where they had better technology and 24-hour care available, and  so I did.

The details of the events that unfolded once I was there  seem trivial in relation to the emotions I experienced.

After multiple conversations with the vet about his prognosis and frantic phone calls home to my mother and endless amounts of tears, I was left to make the heartbreaking decision to put my little furbaby to sleep.

Logically, it was the right decision. As a human being capable of rational thought, I recognize that I made the best and most compassionate choice. But the memory of him too weak to lift his head, the memory of holding him while he went to sleep, the memory of walking through my front door that night with an empty cat carrier, well… those memories tend to exterminate any ounce of rationality I might possess.

As a pet owner, we bring these little nuggets into our lives knowing that one day we’ll have to say goodbye. Down the road, when they’re old and sick and have shared a decade and more with us, we know that the time will come when they’re not wagging their tail when we walk in the door or curling up next to us as we watch Law & Order marathons on the couch. I knew this would happen one day, but I wasn’t expecting that day to come so soon and so suddenly.

So I was sad. And I cried a lot of tears, and I’m still sad and I still cry tears sometimes, but sadness isn’t the only emotion I have felt since that night.

I felt irresponsible for not getting him to the vet sooner. I felt overwhelmed that this decision rested on me alone. I felt guilty that I couldn’t afford unlimited tests and exams and medicines and care on the off chance that something would heal him. I felt thankful for him and the happiness his little 8 pound self brought to me over the last few months. Most surprisingly of all, though, is how grateful I felt for the life I have.

That night put my life into a sharper perspective. I thought a lot about why  I was so devastated about this. Why was this affecting me so much? How do people cope with the loss of a parent or a friend or a child? Surely I could handle the loss of a pet better than I was doing.

Then it hit me: this was the saddest, most upsetting thing to happen to me in the last decade. Since the loss of my grandfather when I was in high school, everyone I know has been happy, healthy, and successful. Aside from a few heartbreaks, I had lived well for the last ten years. I graduated high school and college, I traveled the world, I got a great job and I made great friends. No one close to me suffered any serious injuries or illnesses. I was – I am – super fortunate that losing Louie is the only sadness I have felt in a very long time.

The little dude was full of personality and he loved me a lot. He did more for me than I’ll probably ever know and even in his death, he managed to shine some light and perspective on my pretty great life.

So now I snuggle more with Lola and learn more about her quirks and weird meows and penchant for falling in the toilet. We both miss him, but we’ve got each other, and maybe even one day we’ll pick out a new little monster to love up on.

I know this happened almost a month ago, but I didn’t really know what to say for a while. I felt like I should write something about what happened, to make room for me to write about the other, happier things that I want to write about, and it’s not something I could just gloss over. So thank you for bearing with me, and especially thank you to everyone who called and emailed and checked in to make sure I was doing okay. And special thanks to Katelyn, the cause of my most recent tears with her super sweet In Memoriam contribution to the Atlanta Humane Society. I appreciate all of you so much.

Tagged as: animal life, cat lady, family, Love, sometimes things are sad