This may be the end

[RootedPhoenix]

*hugs Eireann* *hughughug*

I could give stories and stuff, but...I don't know if that'll help. Even so, I've been in that spot. Life's gotta be worth it, even if it doesn't feel that way now.

We care. We love you. Don't go away.

[Dips]

Eirann,

When my son died I had no idea how I was going to go on. I thought and wished it had been me instead of him, a little 10 year old boy.

Each day for many weeks I woke up, remembered that he died and didn't want go on. Life seemed pointless and stupid.

It's been almost four years.

I'm still here.

I'm. Still. Here.

And I'm OK. Back in those days right after he died I never thought I would ever be OK again, but I am.

I'm OK.

You will get through this and you'll be OK too. It's good that you have a therapist looking out for you. It's absolutely essential that you tell your therapist if you feel suicidal.

Many, many hugs.

[Eireann]

I told my therapist about it (by email). He answered, I emailed him back, I haven't had an answer to that email yet.

I don't know what I would do without everyone here supporting me, and my friends on Facebook. A friend of mine was on Facebook chat about half an hour ago, and I told him what had happened.

He sent me an Amazon gift certificate for $50. No, I didn't ask for it - he just sent it. And he said he knows exactly how I feel.

Today, I went around pouring Nature's Miracle on the spots where my little baby was throwing up. Then I scrubbed them. I need to do more tomorrow. I'm thinking of throwing out the old litter boxes and getting new ones. I've washed the cat dishes.

I'm not trying to erase the traces of her. The carpet simply has to be cleaned. The dishes were gross. The boxes - well, if another little kitty should come my way, it would be best to have uninfected boxes. Other Kitty has been vaccinated against FLV, but who knows what could happen with a new sweetie?

I still can't believe how empty this place feels. Other Kitty comes when I call, so she kept me company in the kitchen earlier, then came in here when I got on the computer. I keep thinking of yesterday, being in the vet's office, crying on my little baby while they got together those instruments of death. AND having to pay for it.

She was with me when my grandparents died, one by one. When my parents died. Other relatives; one friend (Plaidman). She was a true friend to me, and I hope I was the same to her.

I can see that I've been neglecting Other Kitty, so I'm making up for it now. I'm giving her attention. I make sure she has food (my little baby was the one who always let me know when the dish was empty). I cleaned the boxes today. More pets. I've been telling her that she's a very good girl. She seems lost, too. She's been spending time on the chair that my baby often used.

I feel as if several of the departed are trying to get through to me, but I don't know why. I can only guess that they have a message for me. What it is, I don't know. I got a mental image of a former neighbor of mine who passed away many years ago, standing near me with a smile on his face. Maybe I had to get this low to feel their presence.

It's so incredible, how one little animal can make such a difference. I've never, for one moment, regretted adopting her. The only regret is that she had to go to the vet so often. I couldn't spare her that. Twice, she nearly died, and had to spend time at the clinic. But she pulled through.

And then, eventually, her strength and perseverance just weren't enough for the disease. My little darling. What an inspiration.

[Kittish]

Eireann, my condolences for your loss. In the midst of all the sadness of losing someone you loved so much, here's something to keep in mind and focus on- you gave her something precious beyond words. Love, trust, caring. And got them back, measure for measure. I know. While I can't honestly say that I know just how you feel, I think it's fair to say that I've got at last half a clue.

Think of the good times with your baby. Think of the times she made you laugh, the times she amazed you, the times she exasperated you but was just too darn cute to get mad at. Yes, it will hurt. It's harder than you'd think it is to focus on the good things and not the simple fact of losing her. Think of how blessed SHE was to have you in her life. It's true. You gave her a wonderful life, and did everything in your power to make leaving it as painless as possible. You even did the hardest thing of all, letting her go when it became needful to do so in order to spare her as much suffering as you could.

The only times in my life that I even come close to believing in any supreme or even superior beings is when I pray to Bast to watch over the cats that have come into my life and then left it.

[fma_fanatic]

Eirann, Da Dairy Druid and I want to add our condolences. We lost a dear friend over the summer. She was my baby kitty and she loved on the husband. No matter where he sat, she'd be in his lap.

She got skinny and we took her in. She had an overactive thyroid. She took her medicine like any good kitty would (wrapped in a pill pocket which she gobbled like candy).

One night, she refused to take it. We fought her to take it, but in the end it was the beginning of the end. She didn't eat, wouldn't move from where she sat on my daybed and our other cat was meowing at me and looking at her. She knew something was up. The vet visit showed she had gotten better, but I had the husband mention that she seemed like she was struggling to breathe. An xray later in the day showed fluid in her chest cavity and some masses. The vet felt it was most likely cancer. The husband called me and I rushed over. There is no sight more humbling than seeing the man you married holding your cat in his arms, and know he's been crying.

We decided that it was time to let her go. She'd made us happy; she'd brought us together. She was not just my baby, but our baby.

That night I bawled, and I dealt with the grief. I felt so guilty.

It hurts because she was the kind of cat that just didn't care. If you had a lap, you were her pillow.

We got another cat a couple of weeks later. She's not a replacement; she's an addition. She will never, ever replace our baby, but she does make us happy.

Eirann, I cried reading your post. I don't want you to feel bad, because it would happen no matter who posted. I'm crying for you and with you, because the pain hurts, but it makes us realize that we can continue even if we grieve for those we lost, pet or human. They integrate themselves so deeply in our lives that we don't realize it until they're gone.

[Eireann]

That's exactly right.

I just took a shower, and I kept expecting to see her walk in, or to be crouched in the doorway as I left the bathroom. That's what she always did. When I went into the kitchen, I expected her to follow me there and ask for food.

Her old bed is just a few feet from where I sit. I keep looking at it, expecting to see her there. Everywhere I go, except the bedroom, has memories. I couldn't let the kitties sleep there, because I have plants and I was afraid they'd eat them and get sick.

I did let my baby sleep with me after my first kitty died. Boycat had health problems from the beginning. He had chronic gingivitis; eventually, many of his teeth had to be pulled. He also had a truly nasty habit of using soft furnishings as a toilet, as well as simply taking a dump on the floor right next to the box, rather than in it. At one point, in tears, I called the woman from the shelter and said, "I think I'll have to give him back."

"Then we will kill him," she answered.

She explained that when a kitty is returned to the shelter for problematic behavior such as his, that kitty won't be adopted by anyone else, because the shelter people have an obligation to tell any prospective owners that the kitty has this problem. So, she said, they would just put him to sleep.

I couldn't let that happen, so I kept him and cleaned up after him. A few years ago, he lost weight, stopped eating, and starting throwing up. I took him to the vet, thinking that he would tell me to leave Boycat there for a couple of days and they'd treat him. Instead, the vet told me he looked like a cat in the final stages of renal failure, and the bloodwork confirmed it.

I went there with a live kitty, and came back with a dead one.

Baby didn't understand what had happened. He was her boyfriend. They slept together, they ate together, they met me at the door when I came home. They played with each other at night, after I had gone to bed. She walked around, calling for him. I opened my bedroom door and let her sleep with me, which she did. When I got Other Kitty, I had to end this practice, not just because of the plants, but because she loves to play, and wanted to chase Baby in the middle of the night. I have two parallel scars on my right wrist from Baby running over me to get away from her.

I've noticed that, now I'm giving so much more attention to Other Kitty, she's calmed down quite a bit. She hasn't been rampaging around the place, as she usually does.

My baby was very spooky for some time after I got her. I couldn't pet her, I couldn't pick her up, she didn't sit on my lap. Eventually, not only would she come when I called her, she would stand on her hind legs and bump her head against my hand. She even warmed up to other people. I can count, on one hand, the times she sat on my lap; she wasn't a lap cat, though I think she was interested in it.

Last night, I smelled her in the room. It had to have been her. Before she went, her breath was truly rank. I smelled that same odor. Then the night before, I saw a kitty shape going toward the bed.

There's a long thread of ghost stories on the Etiquette Hell website, and one of them is about a woman (a friend of the woman who posted the story) who lost two dogs. One night, in her sleep, this woman visited the Rainbow Bridge, and saw happy animals everywhere. Her dogs came through the crowd and told her that they were fine. Then another dog, one who had belonged to the woman who posted the story, arrived and asked her to tell his owner that he loved her, and he was fine.

I want to have that experience.

[Eireann]

I hope this attachment works.

I found old memory cards from my first digital camera, a now woefully-obsolete 2.1 MP point-and-shoot. I took photos of both kitties with it, back in the days when my little baby hadn't been through any of the health crises she suffered later.

I had forgotten how she used to look. Her fur was sleek, she was a healthy weight, and she looked fabulous. The first intimation I had that anything was wrong, was when she started walking strangely, as if limping. After her diagnosis, a friend of mine who does holistic pet care told me that FLV often affects the muscles of the lower back, causing an odd walk.

She ruled the place. She kept her boyfriend in line, and me. You can see it in her face.

[MoonCat]

What a beauty! I hope that she does come to you in a dream. My little ones have; it can take a long time, sometimes, for them to come and visit in a dream, so you must be patient. But you may not have to wait long; it sounds like she is still there, in spirit.

[tropicsgoddess]

I'm so sorry for your loss, Eirann!

[Eireann]

I smelled her again last night. It wasn't Other Kitty. I walked toward the computer, and that smell hit me. I told her she's more than welcome to appear to me, as well as announcing her presence with the smell.

I've asked her to send me my next kitty. I'm not going to look for one. I'll let her do it. She'll know what to do.

[Dreamstalker]

She is a beautiful kitty.

McGriff shows up every so often to check on his humans; there will be a 'fuzzy' presence in the apartment near his favorite spots and we're still finding cat hair around.

[Eireann]

Last night, Other Kitty let out a loud meow. This is very unusual; she hardly ever meows. For the most part, she chirps. I think she was looking for her friend.

She's also been spending a lot of time on the chair where my baby was, when I had to put her in the carrier to take her on that last trip to the vet's. I keep finding her curled up there. When I snap my fingers, she hurries over for some loves. I don't like leaving her alone here. When I come home, she meets me at the door, just like my baby used to do.

Maybe my little girl can come back to me, in a healthy body. I would love that.

[Kyree]

I'm so sorry, I know how hard it is to lose a pet. It's even worse when it's a disease that robs them of years they should have had with you. My little girl died about 4 years ago. She was 5 years old. She was my special girl - I love all of my pets, but she was that special one that held my heart in her paw and it will never be the same again.

It was hard. I cried every morning, every night. I could barely work. I hated being alone in the apartment, I avoided when I could. Every day was a tiny bit easier. It's been 4 years and I still tear up when I talk about her. I had her cremated, and set up a little memorial on the shelf of my computer desk. It makes me smile when I can see her special box, with her collar and the picture I have propped up on it. Maybe you could make something like that.

What did you gain? You gained making sure that a cat who needed a home, a cat most people would never have adopted because of her illness, had the best possible last years she ever could have. You are an angel, a saint for taking in a FLV positive kitty.

[Eireann]

When I got her, I had no idea that she was FLV-positive. I didn't know much about the illness. Both kitties tested positive for it. I don't know if one of them caught it from the other, or if they each caught it from another kitty in the shelter.

No, when I got each of them, I had no idea they had health problems. The shelter couldn't afford to test all the kitties for FLV. They only do it when a person is interested in adopting one, and wants to make sure the kitty isn't sick (which is what I did with Other Kitty. Once she was tested, and the test came out negative, I had her vaccinated).

The truth is, I adopted her because she was so pretty. I only wish she'd been perfectly healthy, and hadn't had those health crises that plagued her life. Over the years, she lost weight and her fur no longer had that thickness and shine that you see in the photo. Her boyfriend had that gingivitis (HORRIBLE breath) and a chronic cough. I never did bond much with him, but his death hit me hard.

Other Kitty has been behaving much better lately. She's been staying out of the trash, and she isn't playing floor hockey with dried turds from the box. We have to console each other. I bent over and took a few good whiffs earlier today, just to make sure that the smell I've noticed isn't coming from her. It's not; she doesn't give off any odor. It's got to be my baby.

I don't know if my baby would have been adopted if I hadn't done it. I don't think she would have. Not because of her illness, which nobody knew she had, but because she was so afraid of people. I had been to the shelter several times before I adopted her, but I had never seen her. It was only when the shelter had a "show" of kitties for adoption, that I saw her for the first time. No regrets in adopting her. But she deserved a long and healthy life.

[Kyree]

Animals don't think the way we do. They live in the present. And with them, what matters more than the number of years, is the quality of their life. That's another thing to remember. You gave her the best damn last years of her life she could have asked for. That for her meant more to her than another 15 years in someone else's house who didn't give her the love and attention she deserved.

You didn't give up on her when you got the test results - you have no idea how many people do. Or just have them put to sleep when they find out. You stuck by her side through thick and thin, and there's nothing more that she could have asked for. I know it's a small solace, being she should have gotten much longer on this world. But she didn't know that, all she knew was that her whole life after you adopted her was full of love. And that, that is what matters.