…so did I.
I haven’t mentioned it, but last Saturday we put Jessica down. She was eighteen, and still loving, but she had become incontinent (not in the sense that she had lost control, but in that she didn’t care where she went, and the litter box was generally last on the list). She was down to half her peak body weight from an original nine pounds, just skin and bones, and very finicky about food, demanding not food per se, but to be fed.
She was always a very social cat (even when we rescued her at the age of one and a half, she seemed more dog than cat in her need for attention), and remained so, but she was tired, and didn’t seem to enjoy anything in life other than eating, and lying on us. At the end, she had to stay outside lest she destroy the house, and when I took her to the vet to diagnose a diarrhea problem, we both concluded that despite her continued affection, she was suffering from dementia. Patricia and I made an appointment for Saturday, and saw her through to the end, which came very quickly and painlessly, at least for her. There was very little fight left in her. We brought her home and buried her in the yard where she used to play when she was young.
While we’re relieved that we can finally clean floors (and perhaps replace some of the wood flooring where she’d made permanent urine stains through a rug that we hadn’t seen), there’s a hole in our lives as well, after over sixteen years. Rerun (the young cat we adopted three years ago) doesn’t know what happened to the older cat she used to try to play with, but she’s been more subdued than usual. At some point, I hope we’ll get her companionship her own age.
[Update a while later]
Thanks for the condolences in comments. It’s interesting to note that what we did was very common when we were growing up (and not unusual at all to our great grandparents), but a lot of people think it’s weird today, I think. Some friends of mine live in a farmhouse west of Ann Arbor across the road from a church in which some of their relatives are buried in the yard.
When we first got a quote for the procedure from the vet, it included cremation, with an option to keep the ashes. That’s in fact what I did when Stella died, but I didn’t really have a choice, because I was half a continent away when it happened. Apparently keeping the body of the animal is an unusual request. When we asked, the vet said that we weren’t supposed to bury it ourselves, but she would give it to us as long as we didn’t tell her what we were going to do — for all she knew we were taking it to a pet cemetery for interment. It actually saved us a little money, and made us feel like we were taking care of her ourselves.
And apparently dealing with pet remains is a pretty good business. We just used a cardboard box. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t care. The vet did make a little clay cast of her paw print, that the young women in the office paint (one of them was a little apologetic about it — “It’s nothing fancy, sort of like a kid’s art project”). I’ll pick it up tomorrow. Maybe I’ll embed it in a cement slab.
[Update late afternoon]
One more point, per comments. I am never offended by someone offering their prayers for me, though I’ve been god blind all my life (and expect to go to my grave that way, which is one, but not the only reason that I’m into life extension).
I can’t imagine how they would hurt me (well, OK, I can, but only in a ludicrous, Pascal’s-Wager-denying thought experiment), and I assume that they at a minimum benefit the person praying. I always appreciate everyone’s good will, and good thoughts, in whatever form.
My condolences. My dog is 9 and in good health. We too look forward to a day with clean wood floors not ruined by the dog. Still, I don’t look forward to days you are going through now.
Sorry for your loss.
My condolences. My dog Ginger is getting on, and though her time has not come yet we can see the day where it will.
I realize that you are not a believer, but please do not be offended if I offer my prayers.
It’s always hard. I’ve lost four cats over my life, but I was always glad that they spent their time with someone who cared for them and gave them a safe home. It helped me feel a bit less sad. I will admit to crying my eyes out in my car in the parking lot at the vet after they put my latest cat to sleep, though. Small as they are, and for as short as they live, relatively, they have a big impact on our lives.
Condolences. I’ll send my wife this URL as well — she still remembers your kindness to her years ago when she posted about losing one of our cats.
My condolences as well. Went through a very similar series of events back at Christmas time with our cat, only eleven.
She had been very sick for some time when she left the house on Christmas Eve and did not come back, with twenty-degree weather outside. We searched all over and checked the door constantly until midnight, then went to bed. We assumed she had wandered off to some little nest and died.
Christmas morning gift opening was somewhat somber, but then, just as we finished and started talking about breakfast, there was a loud thump and scream from the front porch. There she was! Took her in and warmed her up. She lived only another three days, but we still refer to it as our little Christmas miracle.
My condolences, Rand. Kira is 12 and still in good health, but it saddens me to think that most of her time with me is already in the past.
Rand, we’re very sorry for your loss. No matter how long you’ve had a companion it’s always hard to say goodbye.
My condolences; losing a long-time pet is hard. Our 13 year old cat died in May, and there are still times when I think I’m seeing him out of the corner of my eye, until I focus and remember that he’s gone.
Thank you, Jim. The first night that she was in the ground I kept imagining that I heard her crying for dinner. In retrospect, it is a little weird to have a cemetery in the back yard, even for a pet, but it was how our progenitors lived.
I buried Kira’s brother Leo in the backyard when he died suddenly at age seven, and Kira will go next to him when her time comes.
I went to a human funeral parlor and bought a black granite grave marker for $300. He deserved it, and I will get an identical one for Kira. (They’re both black cats.)
Rand,
Now even that long ago. Both of the dogs I had as a kid were buried in the family backyard when they died of old age.
The worst for me was when we took my senior female cat in for the last time. She had bad thyroid problems and was wasting away before my eyes, but she was still full of life and wanted to keep on fighting. But she was fighting way above her weight and was at the point where there was going to be nothing left for her but pain… so I made the call.
You have my sympathy, Rand.
My condolences also.
Have you read Arthur Clarke’s short story Dog Star? In The Collected Stories he’s noted “I can no longer bear to read this story, now that Laika sleeps forever in the garden of the home we once shared.”
I’m sure I have, because I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing Clarke wrote that I haven’t read. The sad thing will be if/when we sell the house. And we probably will unless California turns around, and soon. I suppose we could disinter and move her (a disgusting thought considering that we buried in plastic, a terry cloth and cardboard box), but she’d be happiest (yes, I know, I know) where she is. I’d just worry about the new owners just tearing everything down and digging everything up.
Which is both life, and death.
When we first got a quote for the procedure from the vet, it included cremation, with an option to keep the ashes.
I work in a printing shop, and every few months we get an order from a pet cemetery for cremation tags. I tear up when I write up the order, every time.
I’m very sorry for your loss, Rand. We’ve had quite a few cats over the last 30 years. Some lived into their teens, some disappeared (coyotes or wanderlust), and a few have lived to 20. They’ve all left their pawprints on our hearts. They’re family.
Mrs Der Schtumpy and I are dog people, but I get it still.
A number of years ago we had to have our dog put down because he developed a tumor. After having him under foot and cussing him more than a few times over 14 years, making that decision was very tough, but I won’t watch an animal suffer.
Hope the sting goes away soon.
Sorry about your loss Rand. I have lost one Dog and two Cats over the years and it is never easy. It is like losing family.
I have a place on a plot of land a few miles away on the forest where I bury my pets when the dread day arrives.
I adopted another cat two and a half years after my last one died at age 18. I picked Pooky because she kinda looked like her(JinX0 Grey with white paws.
Then two years later a three-legged stray tortoise-shell Calico wandered into the yard and picked us just like Jinx did as a kitten. She is Hopper Tripod the Third since she has three legs and is my third Female Cat….or Hoppy for short.
It is sometimes uncanny how much she acts like Jinx did and how many mannerisms she shares. I almost wonder if pets reincarnate.
Condolences, Rand. My wife and I know how you feel as we lost Schroedinger on the 1st of May this year.
My sympathies, Rand.
My condolences, Rand. They’re such a part of the family…
A sad day for you and Patricia – you have our deep sympathy. We have a granite marker for one of our horses but it stays in the tack room – pretty tough on cultivators / mowers. Not looking forward to digging the next grave, be it cat, dog or horse. Truly part of the family.
Rand,
My condolences. We had to put one of our dogs to sleep three years ago. She was very old (around 17) and had started to lose control as well, so she stayed mostly in the garage and yard. Then she just had a stroke one day and couldn’t stand anymore. Its never easy.
Kevin and I send our condolences as well. We lost our sweet boy Taz to liver cancer on June 25th, so we can empathize.