I realize it’s been a pretty epic bad week for my emotions about my dear cat slowly slipping from us – but I didn’t realize how much it was affecting Bear and Bug until I heard Bug playing with his gray puppy- the one that looks just like my cat and said to me, blue eyes wide and somber, “Puppy died.”
Earlier that week Bear unplugged my cell phone and it frustrated me quite a bit, “Stop unplugging my phone!”
To which he replied, “Why? Because it will die? Like Snickers?”
Knife in the heart.
I know that not everyone is a cat person, so this post is for those of us who have been fortunate enough to have been worthy the love of a cat. To have the love of an amazing cat is something beautiful. Snickerdoodle was a rare, special gift that I got when Ben proposed to me. He had a blue bow that matched his blue eyes and I had always wanted a gray cat.
Snickerdoodle slept with me, tried to eat with me and was amazing with Bug and Bear. He pretty much thought he was human too. He would sit and shake on command and had the best, highest meow that I always mocked him for. We jokingly called him cat-dog and people who hated cats were won over by him after spending a little time with him. He was that amazing. Just 5 days ago he laid on me and rubbed his face on my chin, even though he clearly didn’t feel good. The vets said there was nothing they could do. He lost almost a third of his weight quickly, but still tried to act normal, which was painful to watch.
It’s impossible to even share how I feel here because I keep pushing against the wall of feelings about to flow out and over. I keep telling myself that Snickerdoodle wasn’t a human, but I still feel all this like he is family, because he was to us.
Ben asked if there was anything we could try and they vet said an antibiotic was a long shot, but we could try. Within 24 hours, Snickers seemed more normal, like he was healing. I hoped finally, when he ate almost 1/2 of a can of wet food, and he slept on me like the old days, purring and kissing my face.
Except… his breathing wasn’t normal. It seemed to get worse. and worse. We kept giving him medication but if we were late, he would be there on the ground, breathing with his mouth open. It hurt to watch him struggle, even though he didn’t seem to be in pain. I’ve not felt this sad since Bear was diagnosed with William’s Syndrome.
I have perspective, but it’s not easy. I am hurting and I can’t stop crying, even though I know my decision is best and humane.
I will miss my friend.
I am so thankful that God gave me this last week with him after it looked like he was going to die last week. It’s like I got to hold him, take care of him and then finally choose the right thing for him. It’s not easy, it hurts like hell but I feel peace. I know I was loved by this cat and it’s impossible to be completely sad thinking of all the good times I had with him.
We buried him next to Ben’s childhood dogs out at his parents house. We decided to let the boys be present and I wondered if it was the right decision when Bear told us after we laid him in the grave, “Don’t put Snickers there! He won’t like that, it’s dirty!” but then was distracted by the possibility of going on a 4-wheeler ride. Death is never easy and I’m very thankful for this cooler, cloudy day with the smell of decaying leaves all around. It seems appropriate.