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My little baby is gone

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  • My little baby is gone

    I just posted this on Facebook, and I'm copying and pasting it here because I don't have the strength to write about it again.

    My little sweetie experienced severe breathing problems last night; it was so bad, I thought she might suffocate. Finally, it eased.

    Today, she seemed to be doing better, but she couldn't get comfortable. When I saw that she had to breathe through her mouth, I had to make that decision that animal lovers dread.

    My vet is open on Saturdays. I took her there, and the vet confirmed that nothing could be done. I held her and petted her and told her how much I love her. The vet gave her a sedative first, so she could relax and fall asleep before the final injection.

    I held her chin in my hand so that she could see me. I wanted my face to be the last thing she saw. Her eyes gradually closed, and her breathing eased. I was scared that she had actually stopped breathing, but saw her abdomen rise and fall.

    I kissed her head several times, then left the room. I sat on the stairs, rather than in the waiting room, because I didn't want the other pet owners to see me.

    A man walked up to me and said, "We spoke on the phone earlier." I looked up, and it took me a minute to realize what he meant. He works for a pet cremation company. I called them before I went to the vet. They pick up pets and bring them to the crematorium.

    It only took a few minutes - and by that, I mean that it was less than five minutes when the vet told me it was all over. I went back into the room, and she was covered with a sheet. The vet asked me if I wanted to see her, and I said no. I did put my hand under the sheet to pet her tail, one last time. The vet told me she could give me some of my little baby's fur, and I accepted.

    I went out to the reception to pay for it. I think the vet should have to pay the patients for this. I paid, and the assistant came out and handed me a little bag with some fur. The guy from the cremation company came out just after that, holding my little darling carefully. She was wrapped in a pink blanket. I put my hand on her briefly.

    I had to take a taxi home; I couldn't face public transportation. As I was waiting for the taxi, the guy from the cremation company came around the corner from leaving her in the pickup van. He stopped and talked to me, and I'm so grateful for his compassion. He told me that they'll call me after the cremation. I don't know when it will be.

    Now, I'm back at the space I inhabit. It's not a home. She made it a home. And now she's gone. I have never learned so much about love from anyone as I have from her.

  • #2
    I feel your sorrow, Eirean. My thoughts are with you, as are my condolences.

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    • #3
      Few things are worse than losing a cat.
      Customers should always be served . . . to the nearest great white.

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      • #4
        I've been in those shoes too many times. I weep for you, my dear.

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        • #5
          I'm so very sorry, I hoped it would be a long while yet. I know she'll be in your heart forever.
          When you start at zero, everything's progress.

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          • #6
            *GIANT HUGS* I've been there twice, and feel your pain. I am so, so sorry. I'll tell McGriff and Murphy to watch for her on the other side of the Bridge.
            "I am quite confident that I do exist."
            "Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense. You're just not keeping up." The Doctor

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            • #7
              I'm so very sorry for your loss. I too had hoped she would have some more time.
              Customer service: More efficient than a Dementor's kiss
              ~ Mr Hero

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              • #8
                I don't know what to do with myself. I went to bed at around 3:00 this morning. I didn't sleep well.

                I've been clearing out the fridge, just to have something to do. I washed all her dishes and put them away. I used to put her dry food on a plastic tray, but I've decided not to do that with any other kitties, just on the off-chance that eating off (and licking) plastic contributed to her illness in any way. I cleaned the bathroom sink and the toilet.

                I need to empty her litter box. I need to vacuum, especially under the bed where she spent so much of the last several months. I don't want to do these things, because it feels like I'm erasing all traces of her.

                I keep thinking that I see her out of the corner of my eye. When I stand up, I expect her to come running to me, as she always did. I'm not hungry. I don't want food.

                This hurts more than anything else in my life has. I'm only now realizing how much she brought to me, asking nothing in return. Adopting her was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. My loving baby.

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                • #9
                  I am so sorry. I only had to do that with one of my cats, but you're right -- it's one of the hardest decisions to make.

                  I just can't believe how sudden this happened.
                  Sometimes life is altered.
                  Break from the ropes your hands are tied.
                  Uneasy with confrontation.
                  Won't turn out right. Can't turn out right

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                  • #10
                    Quoth MadMike View Post
                    I am so sorry. I only had to do that with one of my cats, but you're right -- it's one of the hardest decisions to make.

                    I just can't believe how sudden this happened.
                    Neither can I. At the beginning of the year, she was fine. Or she looked fine, and felt fine. She was playing and eating and doing all of the things she did regularly.

                    I think it was in March or April that the wheezing began, and when she began to spend time under the bed. And I took her to the vet, then again, and on it went.

                    I only found out about two and a half weeks ago that it was cancer. She went so fast. She didn't deserve to have any of this. I've never had such a loving, caring, devoted kitty. Adopting her was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life.

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                    • #11
                      It is SO hard to lose a pet, I am so sorry.
                      Eh, one day I'll have something useful here. Until then, have a cookie or two.

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                      • #12
                        Eireann, you did a wonderful thing when you adopted your kitty. You gave her unlimited love, a comfortable, contented life, everything she needed for as long as you could. You blessed her life as much as she blessed yours.

                        I hope that she visits you in dreams. {{hugs}}
                        When you start at zero, everything's progress.

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                        • #13
                          When I adopted her, I already had a kitty. My older kitty was FLV-positive, and missing her friend, who had been put to sleep a few weeks earlier. I was worried about the effect of his loss on her, so I adopted a new one.

                          It wasn't the best thing I could have done for her. My older kitty resented the newcomer, and ended up ruining my small couch by peeing on the cushions. My new kitty wanted to play a lot, and my older kitty didn't.

                          They eventually reached a compromise, and I often found them sleeping together.

                          When the older kitty had to be put to sleep, it was just the two of us. That was in 2011. Since that time, Kitty and I have moved more than once. We've had some very lean times. I gradually came to appreciate her more and more. At first, I was frustrated with her playfulness and her habit of chewing on paper (she also chewed my yoga mat so much that I had to throw the rest of it out) and other habits.

                          Now, though, I can see what a deeply loving pet she was. Everyone was a potential friend, as far as she was concerned. She loved jumping in laps and introducing herself to visitors.

                          I'm falling apart. I have a headache today, and I'm tired and shaky. I'm still not sleeping well. I keep looking for her. I know I need to vacuum under the bed, but I can't bring myself to do it, because she hated the vacuum, and it would feel as if I were disturbing her. I have done some other cleaning, including throwing out old food that had been in the fridge for ages. I've done some recycling. I went for a walk last night and sat on a bench for some time.

                          Everything is all wrong. The hole in my life is enormous. I called the cremation place today to ask when I will get her ashes. The guy thinks it will be Wednesday. I promised my baby that wherever I move, she'll come with me. When my time comes, I'm going to be cremated and have my ashes mixed with hers.

                          Last year, I came to a horrible realization about my childhood. I'm still in therapy over it. Kitty was always there for me, always. Until the last couple of months, she was always ready to have me pick her up and cuddle her. Losing her makes me realize not only what I've already lost, but all of the things I've never had.

                          I'm overwhelmed and grateful for all of the support I've been receiving. A friend of mine called around midnight on Saturday and talked to me for three hours. Friends on Facebook have been messaging me. One of them offered me one of her sister's kittens. It's a beautiful gesture, but this friend is Italian, and though I'll be there next month, the airline I'm flying doesn't allow pets (and I'm not sure what sort of paperwork would be necessary to take a live animal to another country).

                          I know a woman on Facebook who lives about an hour from me, if you have a car. I don't. Neither does she. She invited me to come to her house and see the kitties she has for adoption (she works for a pet rescue operation here). Since the bus service out there is irregular, she's invited me to stay overnight. We have yet to meet in person, but I'm going out there tomorrow to take advantage of her wonderful offer.

                          People talk about it "being time" and all that. I don't believe it was her time. I think she wanted to stay with me, and that's why she gave it her all. I promised her that where I move, she will move with me, and I believe that she wants this as much as I do.

                          I haven't dreamed about her yet. I want to, so much. I contacted a therapist I've had sessions with and told her what happened. This therapist does shamanic work, and she told me that she did a little shamanic session on my behalf, and saw my little baby during it. I hope she's right. I hope she is.

                          I always knew losing her would hurt, but I sorely underestimated the depth of the pain and grief. I feel as if a part of me has been cut out. I visualize a ragged, gaping hole in my surroundings. How could one small animal contain so much love and kindness and support and friendship and forgiveness?

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                          • #14
                            I want to thank everyone for all the support. I'm blown away by the reaction to my news. People on Facebook have posted message after message on my page. A friend messaged me, completely distraught over the news (and she never even met my kitty). She's just as attached to her cats as I am.

                            Today, I went to the pet crematorium. They gave me a plastic urn with her ashes in it. You can have anything you want printed on the urn, so I chose "My Baby". It wasn't her name, but it was what she was.

                            I feel as if she's with me. I feel as if we're together now. Having promised her that she would go where I go (as far as moving is concerned), I'm grateful that I'm able to keep that promise. I put the urn in the window where she used to enjoy the sun. She was lying in that same window when the vet called with the news of her diagnosis.

                            It's been less than a week, but it feels like an eternity.

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                            • #15
                              You have my deepest sympathies, Eireann. I've been there as well, and it hurts so much. *hugs and love*
                              "If your day is filled with firefighting, you need to start taking the matches away from the toddlers…” - HM

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