|Mew Mew napping in 2010|
Last night we euthanized our sweet old kitty Mew Mew. It was time. She was but a wisp of her formal self, skinny and with no reserves. She'd been sneezing for months and yesterday her nose clogged completely. She couldn't properly breathe nor would she eat. She was weak and wobbly.
And yet, despite her struggles, she remained affectionate. We sat as a family on the kitchen floor, ignoring the escaped onion peel, the random popcorn kernels and the dirt. We rallied around our kitty. We pet her, scratched her chin and cried. The dogs were curious and lay nearby.
She let us pick her up and hold her (not typical Mew Mew behavior). She rode on my daughter's lap to the clinic. I tucked my family into the euthanasia room and brought Mew Mew to the back for a catheter. Then we rejoined the family. My husband held Mewey as I gave her the injection. She went quietly, peacefully and in the arms of those who loved her and whom she loved.
Mew Mew was a week shy of nineteen-years-old. We've known her since the day she was born (her mama gave birth in the very first veterinary clinic I worked at). She preceded marriage and children. She outlived a multitude of kitties and a few dogs as well.
Last night there was a conspicuous absence as we lay in bed. No soft thump as she jumped up to join us, no gentle purr to lull me to sleep. She will be missed.
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We got home from the clinic just before 9:00 pm. I was ready to escape and snuggled in on the couch for an hour of Downton Abbey. How was I to know (spoiler alert here if you haven't seen it) Lady Sibyl was to die? Another hour spent sobbing my eyes out.
My heart ached for the characters (and for the actress as she was out of a job -- later I googled it and discovered it was she who quit the show so at least there's that).
Then I went to bed, eyes swollen from too much crying. Should you see me today -- extra puffy about the face, a bit peaked, you'll know why.
This is a strange world we live in. So much sad along with the good. I suppose one must have both the yin and the yang. All I can do is appreciate the moments, both good and bad, and accept them for what they are.
Today there's cleaning to do. I have a book on tape. I'm hoping for quiet contentment; if you see her tell her I'm looking for her. And then send her my way.