5-4-2021

What's real

My dear kitty, Miss Pickles, is acutely unwell today.

Last night she slept across my neck and shoulders.  I was warm and she needed comfort.

Today she struggled for so long to find a comfortable position.  She was so week she had trouble shifting her body.  She hid away 3 times.  I got my neighbors to help get her from behind a cabinet since I am currently recovering from hip replacement surgery.

She was so weak and dehydrated that I tried to give her water with an eye dropper.  She strongly resisted.  I respected her wishes.

Then I saw a change in her breathing.  Her little nose began to work hard, flaring with each breath -- it started to purple a bit.  Then I saw that she was breathing through her mouth.  Her little pink tongue was curled to let the breath in.

I looked up mouth breathing in cats.  Extreme stress.  Big intervention advised.  But she has found a position to lay in that seems a bit more comfortable.  

She is so thin, so barely there.  Her pretty eyes are open but they are not lively.  She is not lively.  She wants to sink into a pain-free place.

I pat her so gently.  Her eyes move slightly.  She is working so hard to just breathe.  She tries to adjust position but her lower half doesn't move.  Her pretty paws are stretched out.  Her tummy rises and falls regularly but too fast.  She is frightfully weak.

It's bedtime and Miss Pickles is still struggling for breath.  I make up a bed on the couch.  I move Miss Pickles there, and as gently as possible, lay her on a thin blanket on my chest and cover her with another blanket to keep her warm and secure.  She struggles on but without much fight.  She passes away, on my chest, around 11:30 p.m.  I lay there with her in place for about half an hour to make sure she is indeed gone.  I stroke her fur and feel no sign of life.  I feel her paws go somewhat rigid.

What do I do with her?  I turn on the lights upstairs and bring down a homemade flannel blanket I made.  I see her pained, clear, lifeless eyes and her stressed mouth, open, teeth and gums exposed as the body reacts to death.  I wrap her body carefully, and for lack of a better plan, set her in the fridge.  It seems ignoble, but it is late and nothing more can be done except stay awake and sob to where I am overwrought and a headache sets in.

I watch a movie - "Lad - A Yorkshire Story", which, although somewhat winsome, eventually induces sleep.

Morning.  Mr. Kitty announces himself.  My head is still pounding and the deep pain of loss takes over.  It is too early to do anything except feed Mr. Kitty and launder the blankets.

I decide to post on Facebook.  Many friends respond.  Robyn and Les come over and we find a burial spot near the garage.  We strew lilies of the valley on Miss Pickles, then Robyn reads a lovely verse she brought up on her phone, and says a prayer.  We fill in her grave and place 2 ferns on top.  It is good and holy.

And now I am bereft.

Medication reminders pop up.  I delete them all, throw out the medicines, syringes, left-over tuna, clean the cat boxes, fold the newly clean blankets.

Julie sends me beautiful pictures of Pickledy, which I post.  They bless me.  They are an enduring record of her attitude, her beauty, her lovely furriness, and the sheer Picklesness of her.

The house is so empty without you, Miss Pickles.