This is a very difficult post for me to write, so I have been putting it off. But here goes:
A few weeks ago, we had to make an agonizing, heart-wrenching decision. Our beloved Dizzy Kitty was suffering, and he was going downhill fast. His behavior had changed, and we had noticed it, but he was still eating, and he seemed to be getting along all right, just slowing down and he was going on sixteen. We thought he probably had arthritis and that was making it more difficult for him to jump up onto things. But, he was managing.
And then we realized, suddenly, one day that he couldn't see. It may have been coming on slowly, but he was making his way around, probably because he was used to his living spaces, indoors and out.
Then we saw that he would nearly walk into things, and only his whiskers prevented him, and he would turn at the last second.
I want him to jump up on my lap and I want him to lay on top of me while I'm watching TV at night, and I want him to wait patiently to lick my bowl after I eat ice cream.
And I'll never get to do any of those things again, and I have to try not to think about it, because my eyes well up with tears EVERY single time.
I ran into an old friend I hadn't seen for a while, and she didn't even want to mention it because she KNEW. But she said she was sorry to hear. And, standing in the crowded grocery store, the tears started to come as I said "No, I can't even talk about it...".
"I know", she said.
You know, when he was trying to get into the (unused) fireplace and hide? Where the angels are? Not a single one of them got damaged. He was trying to be careful, even then. He was such a good little kitty. He was the best kitty EVER.
And I realized what I had said - "you can't be in there with the angels..."
So I will try to tell myself that he wanted to be with the angels. I wish he was still here with me, instead. But I'd like to imagine him in Kitty Heaven, where he can see and walk once again, basking in the sun, eating his favorite treat food, trying to catch birds and mice and moles and lizards - and no longer suffering nor in pain, and being held and loved by the person who loved him more than anybody ever thought they could love a dear little warm and furry creature.
Rest in peace, my beloved Dizzy Little Cat, rest in peace.