Friday, April 23, 2010
When a Pet Dies
It's hard to traverse the journey of a pet who is dying. It is especially tricky when you have young kids, because to them, he is more like a sibling than just an animal. And of course, he is more than "just" an animal to us as well. But, we more readily depict the differences between his passing versus a family member's movement beyond this world.
We've been preparing our kids for this day, Sage's last day. Our tan kitty who used to weigh seventeen pounds and easily stood three feet tall when standing up on his back feet, is now a seven pound pile of tender bones and fur. He is the one who used to race his paws on our bedroom door like an Olympic swimmer, the same one who would shut our bedroom door in those wee morning hours, begging to come back in. He was the one who kept my kids' beds warm, the one who tickled his nose up into my face in the early morning to say hello. I will miss him tremendously because he was our "baby" before we actually had real babies.
We told our son before leaving for school that he would not see his kitty again. So, he said goodbye. He was sad, but fairly collected, as he knew this day was coming. Each of the last three visits to the vet were optimistic attempts to extend this period out, but to no avail, old age and obtrusive tumors have taken their toll. He can no longer breathe comfortably. His body aches at every turn and his walking now requires assistance.
To help my middle daughter grieve, I asked her to draw her kitty a goodbye note and a picture. She wrote, "Goodbye Sage. I love you Sage" and then signed her name. We found three books with cats in them and sat in the downstairs bathroom to read them to him. He lies on one of our family blankets and another gently covers his body. My daughter set his water right next to his head so he wouldn't have to get up. We also sang "Jesus loves kitty, this I know..." to comfort him during these last hours.
Saying goodbye is hard no matter how old you are. Tears have already filled my eyes just writing this piece. I want to be the mature one, the one to comfort my kids when Sage breathes his last breath, but I'm afraid that they will have to comfort me. I know today is his last day; I can tell by his lowered level of consciousness and by his depleted will to go on. I guess it's the way it's supposed to be. He looks peaceful, unconcerned with the things around him. It's like he knows that he's moving on.
Goodbye Sage. I love you my sweet kitty. I will miss you and remember you always. I wish you didn't have to die, but that is part of this life, moving on and saying goodbye to us. Thank you for the cat you have been for our family, a loving, tenacious, and faithful cat.
We've been preparing our kids for this day, Sage's last day. Our tan kitty who used to weigh seventeen pounds and easily stood three feet tall when standing up on his back feet, is now a seven pound pile of tender bones and fur. He is the one who used to race his paws on our bedroom door like an Olympic swimmer, the same one who would shut our bedroom door in those wee morning hours, begging to come back in. He was the one who kept my kids' beds warm, the one who tickled his nose up into my face in the early morning to say hello. I will miss him tremendously because he was our "baby" before we actually had real babies.
We told our son before leaving for school that he would not see his kitty again. So, he said goodbye. He was sad, but fairly collected, as he knew this day was coming. Each of the last three visits to the vet were optimistic attempts to extend this period out, but to no avail, old age and obtrusive tumors have taken their toll. He can no longer breathe comfortably. His body aches at every turn and his walking now requires assistance.
To help my middle daughter grieve, I asked her to draw her kitty a goodbye note and a picture. She wrote, "Goodbye Sage. I love you Sage" and then signed her name. We found three books with cats in them and sat in the downstairs bathroom to read them to him. He lies on one of our family blankets and another gently covers his body. My daughter set his water right next to his head so he wouldn't have to get up. We also sang "Jesus loves kitty, this I know..." to comfort him during these last hours.
Saying goodbye is hard no matter how old you are. Tears have already filled my eyes just writing this piece. I want to be the mature one, the one to comfort my kids when Sage breathes his last breath, but I'm afraid that they will have to comfort me. I know today is his last day; I can tell by his lowered level of consciousness and by his depleted will to go on. I guess it's the way it's supposed to be. He looks peaceful, unconcerned with the things around him. It's like he knows that he's moving on.
Goodbye Sage. I love you my sweet kitty. I will miss you and remember you always. I wish you didn't have to die, but that is part of this life, moving on and saying goodbye to us. Thank you for the cat you have been for our family, a loving, tenacious, and faithful cat.
