how she left us
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Nine days before she left us, I captured a few shots of her basking in the sunset.
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On March 10th, I came home from work to find her laying on her side, having trouble breathing. It was the second time in a week this kind of attack had happened. Tom picked us both up and drove us to the vet.
On my lap, in the front passenger seat of the car, I opened up her carrying case and pet her, and we talked sweet things to her. It was to be our last intimate moment with her outside of the animal hospital. I still remember the first days we were together back in 2010 when she was a kitten on my lap in the passenger seat as well.
The vet put that sweet little face on oxygen and tried to get her comfortable. They kept her overnight, and I would get a report on her in the morning.
In the morning of March 11th, after carpooling to the school building and setting up to get ready for a Thursday of live teaching, the animal hospital called. They told me she took a turn for the worst, and that her heart had fluid all around it which is a sign of heart disease or the spread of lymphoma, both of which meant a poor prognosis. In so many words, we would most likely have to put her down that day. I called Tom, I called my mom. Lots of tears.
Tom picked me up early from work. We drove to mom and scooped her up too, and around lunch time we were at the animal hospital to say goodbye to our girl.
They brought her in the dimly lit room - the same room I was in more than a decade earlier to say goodbye to my dog Teddy - and we spent about five good minutes chatting her up, giving her kisses, rubbing her, and petting her. Your brain goes through a lot of things in times of grief and desperation not to lose someone you love - I was doubting the decision to do it. She was so ill, but still, my brain was like “she’s not that bad, am I doing the right thing?”
She let out a few groans, turned her head when the vet knocked on the door to see if it was okay to come in, and I thought all those were good signs. That was until her eyes got really glassy and she laid herself down. He paws stretched out and she seemed to be reacting to something her body was doing. It was the sickness taking over, and now that she’d had a chance to see us and say goodbye, it really was time.
I am eternally grateful to the core of my being that we were there for her in that moment, that she left this earth while I pet her cheek so cozily to sleep, while her papa and grammy were whispering sweet sayings. Thank God we were able to be there. Thank you God for letting me be her mama. Thank you forever for the gift that she was.
Tom said it best with the phrase “we lost a piece of our family” that day. A piece of my beloved unit is gone and the space in my life that once had her in it is gaping and open and bleeding out.
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When it was all over, and we walked out of the animal hospital, the warm breeze of the day hit the tears on my cheek, and I looked up realizing it was 70 degrees in March. It was the most beautiful day for heaven to receive the most cherished and beloved angel baby on this earth.
I imagined her soul travelled the few blocks to mom’s house. I imagined her belly buried in the grass of mom’s backyard - the backyard where I found her 10 years ago, where I grabbed her baby kitten back fat and plucked her from the earth like a ginger root that would heal my soul in ways I never imagined possible. I imagined her little pink nose raised high, sniffing the breeze like the many times I’ve seen her do before, my sweet sweet girl.
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I got to be her mama for a split second of 10.5 years, and what a true blessing and honor it was. We miss her so terribly, and will love her forever. xo
