On Grief

Back in October our cat, Lulu, was diagnosed with cancer. I talked about it some in this post. We had another 6 pretty good weeks from the time we found out about her cancer. The last couple of weeks she was still in good spirits - she was underfoot and involved in our daily lives. She'd come greet us when we returned home from being gone for an errand. She kept up her daily routines, but she wasn't eating much, or at least not consistently. We were trying everything. All the kinds of foods and treats we could find.

But last Wednesday things took a turn. She was still moving around but we noticed that she would get out of her bed on the floor to stretch out on the floor. She wasn't getting up in her cat tree and she was having accidents (pee) by the litter box and not going #2 at all for a couple of days. She was spending time near her food an water but not actually eating or drinking. Thursday she wasn't eating at all, no matter what foods we tried. It looked like she was having trouble swallowing. I called the vet and thankfully the person that answered knew how to deal with someone who couldn't get the words out. I managed to talk to the vet and we decided it probably was time but he said we could bring her in for a doctor to confirm.

We all sat outside one last time together. I think she knew it was goodbye as she sat in each of our laps.

We took her in and the tech said her temp was low and she'd lost weight. The vet said she was pretty constipated and offered to give her an enema but said it would only buy her a couple of days. As hard as it was to let go, I knew she would hate any further interventions. I think she was ready to go. Anything else would have been for us, not her.

So we all stayed with her as she crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. Until we meet again pretty girl.