
Up until this past Monday, I had three cats. I now have two. My oldest, 20 year old Hobbes, was put to sleep Monday afternoon. He'd been medicated for high blood pressure for about a year. His retinas were blown because of the high blood pressure, so he could see shapes and movement, but probably not a lot of fine detail, according to the vet. His quality of life still seemed pretty good, though. He could jump up on the bed with a little help we arranged for him - from the floor to a small decorative chair to a slightly higher child's chair to a trunk and then the bed. We have an antique library piece situated over a floor register - not the best place for an antique, I know - and that was his private cave, mostly because it was a great place to be when the heat kicked on. ;-) The last week or so though, he'd slowed down noticeably, and the quality of his meowing had changed. It definitely looked like the beginning of the end.
I knew I'd probably have to put him to sleep eventually, but I've been dreading it. It's a weird thing. I wanted to make sure that he'd squeezed all the life he could out of his time here on earth, but I wanted to make sure that he wasn't suffering just because I wanted to keep him around. When I looked at his face Monday morning, I knew it was time. He's been slow on his feet but still engaged in what was going on around him, interacting with us, interacting with the other two cats. But in the last week he's been sleeping more, off on his own more, not eating as much...he seemed tired and ready to go. Monday when I looked at his face, he looked tired and worn-out and miserable. He was very unsteady on his legs. He looked much thinner. I made the call when I got to work.
I left early after setting up the appointment, because I wanted to hang out with Hobbes for a bit before we took him in. He was curled up on the bed, so I stretched out with him and stroked his back for a bit. I groomed him a little with their brush and stroked him a bit more. Then it was time to go. When we got there the vet confirmed what I'd thought - he was down to seven pounds. Hobbes weighed between fourteen and fifteen pounds when he was in his prime. He'd been thin for a while though, but he'd been noticeably thinner this past week.
I knew it would be hard. I'd gotten misty just thinking about having to do it, but I didn't realize just how hard it would be. He went quickly. We took him home with us and monkey!husband buried him in the back corner of the yard. I cried quite a bit. Tuesday morning I was absolutely worn out, so I called in a vacation day.
It was weird - Hobbes had been very vocal the last year or so, I don't know if it was because his eyesight had failed or if he was just being a cantakerous old guy - probably the latter. He meowed about everything. MEOW! "Im cold! Turn up the damn heat!" MEOW! "Fill up the water bowl!" MEOW! "It's time for my pill!" MEOW! "I'm old! Feed me, dammit!" I'm not talking polite meows either, I'm talking nails-on-a-chalkboard old guy-screeching. Needless to say, I'd forgotten how quiet cats really are! This sudden silence is almost eerie. BooBoo looked at me this morning and I got the hint - "Hey! Breakfast time, biotch!" - but that's all I got, a look. No screaming. It was...odd.
So, I've been meaning to post pictures of my kids for a while now, but my remaining babies can wait. The one on our bed and the one of him standing were taken last year. We took the one of him in the carrier just before we left for the vet. He was a good cat, and he lived a looooooooooooooooooooong good life. I hope he's thinking kindly of me wherever he is. :-) We'll miss him.


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Date: 2006-03-30 04:26 am (UTC){{{}}}
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Date: 2006-03-30 06:51 pm (UTC)I'm sorry.
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Date: 2006-03-31 05:37 pm (UTC)*hugs*