I have been gone quite a bit over the last year due to my mother’s failing health and unfortunately, she passed away this past May. Coming back home to find my little Petee in a frail state was heartbreaking for me. Now I have to face another milestone that I would rather run away from… making a decision that I wish God would handle for me instead.
The little guy eats normally, goes out and “does his thing” and sleeps (as you would think a normal dog does when he isn’t eating or out “doing his thing”); but his awake time is not the same. He will not let us help him with his eye (obviously it is painful to him) and uses the sleep time to escape from the pain. He cannot find his way around very well, so he stands around or shuffles around in circles. But, he never complains, cries or moans. He is stoic, sweet and so tender hearted…
I know his quality of life is not there anymore. But he is still a life. Am I holding on to him because he is so much a part of the past?
Two weeks after we returned from Florida, after my father passed away (December 14, 2000), we decided to get a friend for Vinny. So, we drove down to a breeder in La Grande, California and adopted Petee, who was going to be put down because he had deficits. Vinny, (who came with us), seemed to like him, so we brought him home and a few days later, we celebrated Petee’s 2nd birthday together on January 2nd, 1998. (Vinny was born on September 12th, 1997) My daughters were 7 and 9 years of age at the time. They all grew-up together. Five years later, along came Stella and then eventually, ED.
So, I ask myself again, whom am I holding on for… myself? Am I unwilling to let him go because it is definitely saying good-bye to an era. My daughters are grown-up and have left home; my dad has passed on; and three months ago I lost my best friend in the world…, my mother, so I sit here struggling with the decision that was recommended to me by our Veterinarian as well.
Today, he couldn’t find the water bowl and even when I placed him in front of it, he declined a lick. Not the Petee I once knew. So, when Stella and I put him back in my daughter’s room (where he loves to sleep), I could have sworn he said, “no more” … and then he hound-wounded into a little ball, took a deep sigh and was back in a nap again.
I know there are animal lovers out here… help me through this please. I so want him to leave this world naturally but do not want him to suffer. He’s so precious and beautiful, that I cannot stand to do the other… even though it is probably the humane thing to do. I have also been through so much loss this year that I get I cannot make this decision with an emotional heart.
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Oh Diane...
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry. You are holding on for an eternity of heart reasons. We were never meant to say one good-bye, let alone so many!
Perhaps Petee is taking it into his own little paws for you by not drinking. Animals know.
When our 14-year-old cat, Meeka (we called her "the nursemaid") was getting sicker and sicker, I dreaded finding her dying or dead; instead, she disappeared one day and never came back. I so regret that she breathed her last alone instead of in the lap of at least one of us to whom she had devoted her life.
Praying for comfort and peace for you both.
Love,
Cheri
I agree with you, Cheri - ANIMALS DO KNOW - and Petee is very sensitive.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your friendship and compassion. It means so much to me!
Love to you always...♥
My heart goes out to you, Diane. It's been a year of unimaginable loss for you, and I am sure there's a part of you that is just saying "NO MORE!!" But that is how it happens sometimes, and part of faith is trusting the message and the lesson that is in front of us.
ReplyDeleteOur Rowfa, a lovely tabby cat, was 16 years old and totally blind when we finally let her go to her rest. We had her since she was six months old. We adopted her after our first cat, Patch, was killed by a car. He died in my arms on the way to the vet. I felt his soul levae as I looked out the car window and saw a red-winged blackbird take off from a tree at the side of the road.
Our Rowfa was our child for those 16 years. She appears in many of my illustrations during that period. She spent a lot of time under the warm lamps of my drafting table, and she always knew enough to keep her pawas out of the wet watercolor. When my husbvand became disabled for several years (he's fine now), she was his constant companion, nestling into his feet or sleeping on his belly. There was no cat who was ever loved more than Rowfa was.
When she went blind shortly after we moved to this apartment, we set up her food and litter box here in my studio. She felt comfortable navigating here, and the living room couch is not too far, so she could comfortably spend time lying on Frank when he watched tv. We managed this situation for several months. Then I got a full-time job, and she started to lose the use of her back legs. We were afraid she would fall behind the couch and die there, so we made the most heartbreaking decision ever. I took herto the vet on Election Day 2004 and stayed with her as she fell asleep for the last time.
Her ashes and Patch's ashes are in my living room. She will always be a part of our life.
It is a hard thing to come to; we both felt that Rowfa told us when it was time. Your Petee is letting you know his time is close, so you can prepare for it.
The pain of loss is the price we pay for the joy of love. I am so sorry you are going through another big loss so soon. I hope you find peace and joy in the good memories.
Love you, sweet girl.
it is faith; it is trust - if i can get through the pain to appreciate the joy and love from all the glorious memories, the light will shine again. right now, it feels like i'm sitting in darkness and can't find the light switch.
ReplyDeletei look forward to that day when i feel that "lightness" in my heart again.
thank you, Claudia... with much love always♥