Rumpelmintz is gone. My friend Barb used to say “Rumpelmintz is too stubborn to die.” I guess she was right. In the end, we did have to give her a little help. It was time, and she needed to be told it was okay to let go.
Posts Tagged ‘grief’
Kitty.com has left us today. She fought a valiant battle, but she looked tired and ready to go. I assured her she could rest now, and left her in the incredibly compassionate and capable hands of Dr. Olsen. Kitty.com seemed unsure for just a moment, before tucking her sweet face into Dr. Olsen’s chest, ready for her battle to end.
As I’d posted previously, Studley was diagnosed with cancer a few weeks ago. I opted not to pursue IV chemotherapy or immunotherapy (vaccination therapy). While they might have slowed the progress of the cancer, it would have meant a lot of unhappy car trips for my little man. He’d been losing weight drastically since January, so I wasn’t optimistic any treatment would buy him much time. We did put him on oral prednisolone (steroids) to hopefully reduce the swelling in his lymph nodes, increase his appetite and make him more comfortable.
For two weeks, the steroids helped – he was eating more and seemingly feeling better. Due to the weight loss, he was even able to do things like hop up to the back of the couch – something he hadn’t been able to do previously. However, the past week he started to deteriorate again. He lost 6 ounces. He vomited violently on Sunday. I felt we should spend one last, really nice, weekend together, and then ask the vet to help him move on. Maybe this was a selfless act on my part, wanting him to move on BEFORE he was suffering and unhappy – while he was still having relatively good days filled with sunshine and fresh air in our outdoor window encosure. Perhaps it was selfish, wanting to spare myself the agony of watching my little man die. Maybe it was both. I’m not sure.
I lost Ralph Friday. It was sudden and unexpected. I came home from work, started the usual routine of grabbing my mail and saying hello to the cats – when I see Ralph wasn’t there to greet me. Stepping into the living room, I see him laying near the bottom of the stairs. Of course, those mixed feelings hit me – a combination of dread and fear and hope that really nothing is wrong and I’m being paranoid. But I know something’s wrong, the way you just KNOW. He’s not getting up. I give him a freeze-dried 100% meat treat and he eats it eagerly, but he’s not getting up. Honestly, I hoped he’d just fallen down the stairs and broken his leg, but again, I just KNEW. I knew this was bad.
I miss waking up each morning and looking over to see Monet sitting on my chest near the window.
I miss Lovey throwing her front legs around my neck so we could “dance” together.
I miss Molly’s little face peeking up over the kitchen counter.
I miss Elsinore licking the white vase.
I miss Meow Meow gumming my arm when she got over-excited.
I miss watching Latifah eat her food enthusiastically, bopping other cats on the head to get theirs.
I miss giving Afer sub-q fluids while she purred and rolled over so I could rub her belly.
I miss coming home each night to see Omaha waiting for me, holding him and listening to his deep belly purr.
I miss them. Loved and Lost.