I'd named her Lucy, after Lucy Lawless of Xena: Warrior Princess fame. Her tendencies to push to the front of the food line, jostle the other cats out of her way when she wanted their comfy spot and take a hall-lengthed running leap to land on me in bed when I was deepest asleep fairly demanded a moniker such as this and she never failed to live up to it gloriously. Some of you may know that I have made something of a hobby of rescuing abandoned or abused cats in my immediate neighborhood for many years now. Once I win their trust, I bring them inside, clean them up and get them their shots and a spay or neuter job. Once I get them home, they happily remain indoors because, between the traffic, the target practicing neighbor kids and the occasional wild animal coming through, a cat hasn't got a snowballs chance in hell of surviving outside here. This means that I've often had as many as a dozen fur-babies sharing my home at any given time. In recent years, however, the previously steady influx of new borders has sharply declined since the section 8 dope-den apartments in the area have begun actually enforcing their long-standing no-pets rule. Now I am faced with a dwindling population of aging cats who have been with me forever and to whom I have grown thoroughly attached. One such was my Lucy, who suddenly crawled into my lap in the middle of the night, this week, breathing hard and mewling in obvious pain. Wondering for the millionth time why a cat never has a crisis during regular vet hours, I held her there until I could make an appointment the next morning and get her some help. The diagnosis was damning: enlarged heart, fluid on the lungs, air in the stomach, partial paralysis. The only thing left to do was to put her out of her misery. One thing I have learned in twenty years of cat husbandry is that when they go, there is most often little or no warning. One minute, perfectly fine; the next, gone. Another thing is that, as many of my friends as I have lost over the years to age and illness, it never seems to get any easier to say goodbye. I don't actually believe that it ever will. Rest in Peace beloved Lucy. I will miss that bomb-blast bed landing of yours that will never come again.
I am so sorry for your loss. It is so hard dealing with the grief of losing a "member of the family", but it would be even worse to have not had her at all.
@Peter Remington , I am sorry to hear of your loss. I do understand it, as I have been through it before. I know it hurts.
Peter, I'm so sorry. I love having dogs, and usually have two at a time, but the worst part of having pets is that they eventually pass away, and we're left with an empty hole in our hearts... She looked like a wonderful cat, and had a good life it seems after you saved her...
I am sorry for your loss. We had a cat for more than 10 years when we lost her it did hurt. Take care.
Peter, I , too, am sad to hear of the loss of your friend, Lucy. I have also lost cats, dogs, and even horses that I loved dearly, and the pain and anguish of losing one is terrible to bear. Sometimes, the only part we can console ourselves with , is when they go quickly, and not suffering, and often, that is the last way we can show our love, is to end the suffering. You gave Lucy many years of life that she would not otherwise likely have had, if you had not rescued her in the first place. I think that God gives us his precious ones to care for; sometimes for a long time, sometimes only for a little while. Now, Miss Lucy , along with all of our lost and sadly mourned pets, will be waiting across the Rainbow Bridge. Hugs of sorrow and friendship for you, my friend. <<<HUGS>>>>
This is so sad to hear. I have lost quite a few pets in my day and it is never easy. Once you grow that connection with them they are like family and it is very hard to see them go.
Thank you so much to all of you who have expressed your sympathies here. It's been a rough week but having some nice people to share it all with is more helpful to me than you can possibly know. Bless you all.
I have a dear friend who just had to have her little elderly Pom put to sleep today; so it has been a sad day for both of us. When we first moved here from Idaho, we rented a house next door to where Jill lived, and we became "over the fence" friends. I was raising puppies at the time, and had several little dogs, one of which was Ruthie, the toy Pom. Jill totally fell in love with little Ruthe, and Ruthie loved Jill, so I gave her the dog, and they have been inseparable ever since. Jill has no family close; so Ruthie was her "family". Now well over 15 years old, today Ruthie must have either had a heart attack or maybe a stroke, and Jill called me in tears. I could hear Ruthie crying in the background, and knew she had to be in a lot of pain; so Jill brought Ruthie over, and we took her to the vet to be put to sleep. Jill was too distraught to be with her; so I was the one to hold little Ruthie while the vet gave her the shot that would end her suffering. Burial will be in our back yard since Jill lives in an apartment. All in all; it was a hard day; but I am glad that I was able to be there for both Jill and Ruthie.
My sympathies to you both. I don't have anyone in my life either, so the cats are my whole world. When one of them has to go, it is utterly devastating. Please convey my sincere regrets to your friend.
I am sorry that both you and Yvonne have lost your friends. It is a always sad event. Animals are so much nicer than a lot of people I have met and if treated nicely, they always take care of us as well.
Well, there goes another one. Selena was one half of a set of twins, the other one being Kyle. (Get it? Selena Kyle = Catwoman in the Batman franchise.) Kyle--who's been gone for about a year now--and Selena were my 'special needs' cats. They were incredibly skittery and it took me many long years to earn their trust to the point where I could handle them normally. Also completely lacking in a cat's typical coordination and reflexes, they were prone to injury, even safely ensconced inside my house. In the last few months, Selena had begun having occasional small seizures about which the vet could do nothing. She didn't seem to be suffering otherwise, though, so I elected to simply give her as much time as she could manage. Her time ran out this week. I will sorely miss her snuggles with me that she so loved, made the more precious by the fact that they were so hard won. Goodbye, Selena. Rest well my darling girl.
Peter, again, I am so saddened by the pain of your loss. I know how our little furry friends become part of our lives, and like our family, and it is heartbreaking when we lose them. There is just not much that can be said in times like these (regretfully) except to let you know that my heart aches for your sorrow, and I send you my prayers and a cyber-hug for comfort. I think that it is especially hard as we get older, and worry more about our pets. Last year, before the operation, and my heart was so bad; I worried that I might actually go before my beloved little Chipper, (who is eleven years old now) and did not know how he would manage if I didn't make it through the operation, and he lost me. Neither do I know how I will manage if I lose him; so either way, it is something that I worry about and do not like to even consider, all at the same time.
So sorry, Peter. It really is very hard to say goodbye to our beloved "little people". Honestly, sometimes I think it's sometimes just as hard if not harder to let go of them than it is to let go of our human family members. Not to say that our human family members are on a lower rung at all. It's just (I think) that we get very caught up in being responsible for the "little people" and in the care we give them. Anyway, I've probably said too much. I usually do in situations where there are few words to be of help. I am sorry, though, and I wish you peace.