Monday, October 15, 2007

One life ends, another one starts in a new, hopeful direction.

Bare minutes after Nora called on Friday, the vet called with the latest blood tests, and while they didn't show much difference, she agreed that if his health was continuing to decline, and there were no options to give him any relief, then it might be his time had come..

I quickly made arrangements to get the rest of the day off, and drove home. Nora hadn't arrived yet. When I entered the house, I found Merlin inside the carrier I'd left in the living room. He was complaining that he didn't feel well - something he'd started doing on and off the night before.. When Nora arrived home from work, we agreed we should just take him to the vet for the last time. We gathered up his beloved string - his most treasured possession since he was a kitten - and put him in the car.

Because we had no appointment, we had to wait almost an hour before a doctor could see us - I'd requested on, maybe selfishly, just so we could have reaffirmation that our decision was the right one. I was starting to regret that request, because Merlin was continually complaining. He was purring on and off, but it wasn't a happy one - it was the one where cats acknowledge interaction. Clearly though, he was in great discomfort.

Although I hated the fact that Merlin had to wait so long, we did get a very nice doctor who'd just walked in to work and barely had time to look over the charts. He was very kind (their physicians, on the whole, are outstanding), and said he'd encountered similar symptoms and making the same decisions for his own 17 and 18 year old cats. This was the reassurance we needed to be absolutely sure we that we should put him through any extraordinarily measures in some ultimately fruitless attempt to prolong his life. It was time for Merlin to cross over and be free of his pain. Of course, we would be present as he left.

First, the doctor gave him a sedative. This is apparently normal, as sometimes animals struggle if they are just given the euthanasia drug by itself. The doctor temporarily put him back in the carrier while we waited for the sedative to take effect. The vet left the room to get the rest of the equipment. Merlin lay still, breathing slower, but still somewhat complaining. As Nora and I alternated stroking his head, I told him how much we loved him, how we would guard and cherish his "string", and how good a guard cat he'd been. I apologized for the times when he may've felt as if he wasn't getting enough attention while we had Max.

When the doctor returned, he gave Merlin the final injection. I saw one last twitch of his eye, and I knew then he was free. Right after that, the doctor said "He's gone". We petted Merlin's side one last time, and watched the doctor carefully cradle his lifeless body in his arms in an old towel from the carrier. He reassured us one last time that we'd done the right thing.

That's what we kept telling each other that as we left the hospital, going over the last few days and hours in our minds. We knew it had to be done - we just wanted to be straight in our own hearts that there wasn't something that we'd missed that might've given us a different outcome. But really - we knew, and we did it just in time before he'd suffered too overly long.

We picked up some cheap burgers, went home and curled up on the couch with a blanket Merlin loved almost as much as his string. It was the one we'd arranged for him to lay on in last couple days. He was so ill that he'd hardly moved from it until we took him to the hospital. We were grateful that it was something else tangible that we could both touch. I fell sleep with the pillow Merlin slept on above my own, the string in my fingers. I still don't have the heart yet to move the pillow.

The next day, we ran our errands, then went to a local supermarket store and bought ourselves a bunch of deli stuff for comfort foods and then went home.. We also picked up the "Tokyo cage" from the folks for the outside cat. We pretty much spent the rest of the evening just watching TV, remembering things about Merlin and plans to trap the little black cat outside.

The next day, I set the trap with some canned food and after about an hour, she was caught. She was scared, but still didn't say a word. With the cage set up at our next door neighbor's basement, we transported her over and set her up with food, water and a box. Our friend's own cats are temporarily forbidden to get down there until she's been tested for diseases. (They have a box upstairs). We covered the cage so that she felt less exposed.

Checking up on her a couple of times, she didn't move from her shelf. Hopefully, by now, she's eaten and caught some sleep. As Nora said, outdoor cats lives are probably shorter because they might not get as much sleep - they're constantly on the lookout. I have to admit, I still felt mixed emotions, still feeling guilty about essentially betraying Mooch's trust. But there was a positive outcome with Kittikins, since she now lives with my folks.

What becomes of this cat depends on how the tests come out for her Wednesday evening. We're hoping for the best, since we're spending our own money for her benefit. If she tests negative, we'll get her spayed. By that time, we'll have spent nearly $100. One or two people have asked if we will adopt her, but we don't want to think about that.  It's too soon to think about another cat in the house, even if Kioko seems to like her and Loki might be ambivalent (they got a look at each other through our screen door on Saturday).

Any time there's a death in one's family or friends, it gets you to think about your own mortality. Right now, I'm dealing with trying to get back into my routines without feeling guilty. Life goes on, y'know? There's a nagging guilt to moving on - almost like it means you're forgetting or putting their memory behind you - which is not true, of course. 

I've got this costume project I'm working on, much i did when Max died - and working on it feels sort of trivial - like I should be doing something more important. I need to get back to working on this website, and I need to be studying my electronics again so that I can get a better job at work. Stuff like that.

I'm sure our friend and next door neighbor has had these thoughts more intensely when her husband died.  Still I feel what I feel.  I just need to learn from it.