12 years ago I brought home a beautiful long-haired black cat. His name was Moe. He was a year old when I adopted him. He was an absolute sweetheart, incredibly affectionate and he had character. He was so cool. He was rather vocal when he was younger and I could have entire meowing conversations with him. He had a loud purr too. He was a big cat; at his largest he weighed close to 18 pounds! He usually slept on my bed. He hogged the bed. I don't know how he did it, but when the weather was cool he somehow managed to get into the very center of the bed and shove us to the sides. My husband and I would wake up only to discover Moe, spread eagle, in the middle of the bed, wrapped in the comforter. We would barely have a scrap of blanket. If he wanted attention he would do the dog thing; that is, he would tap you with his paw. When you rubbed his head or his back he would reciprocate by licking you. He greeted us at the door when we came home, he came when we called him, and when he was younger he did some really funny stuff.
One time he managed to get himself stuck in the drop ceiling in the kitchen of our previous home. I remember I couldn't find him. As far as I knew, he had disappeared. I was frantically searching the house for him. Right in the middle of a panic attack-wondering where my baby was-I stood in the kitchen and looked up, as if seeking divine intervention. When I saw a big black shadow appear in the plastic ceiling tiles. And then he meowed. I realized he must have climbed on top of the fridge and while exploring, found his way inside that drop ceiling, but couldn't figure out where the exit was. He seemed to have lost interest in sitting on top of the fridge after that.
Over the past few years he noticeably aged. Some relatives were in town about a month ago. They hadn't seen Moe in about 2 years and they were shocked at how shabby he had gotten. I guess I didn't notice it so much because I was around him every day. He had always been very proud of his silky, long fur. He spent hours grooming himself. But over the past few years he just didn't have the energy anymore. He was having serious digestive problems. Rather than going into icky details, suffice it to say it was getting rather messy and smelly around here. I don't think anyone could go through that without serious discomfort. Beyond that I could tell he hadn't been happy for a long time.
Today I brought him to the vet knowing I might not be bringing him home. After I explained his symptoms, she thought he might have thyroid problems. So she suggested running a series of blood work. The thing is, if the tests came back positive for a thyroid condition he would have had to be medicated for the rest of his life. There was no guarantee that medication would clear up his "messy" problems either and even if it did, it wasn't a cure. I really felt like that would just be prolonging the inevitable. He was sick and would only get sicker. So I asked her about putting him to sleep.
As it happens, I have an online friend who had a cat that had been in a similar situation and suffered so severely from thyroid disease, that he ended up having a seizure that killed him. She said he wasted away to skin and bones. She couldn't bring herself to put him down and he suffered for it. She was very supportive about my decision to put him down.
He went out very quickly and peacefully. I held him while he left. He didn't suffer as I know he would have if I had kept him alive, but medicated. I cried the whole way home. I knew it was the right time for Moe, myself and my family, but that's never a decision anyone wants to make. Despite my husband and my son, the house feels strangely empty; as if someone is missing. I kept his litter box in the cabinet under my bathroom sink. It's so weird to look at that cabinet with the door closed. I keep having this nagging feeling that I'm supposed to open it for him, yet he's not around to use the loo.
He was my companion and my first baby before I even met my husband. He kept me company when I was sick or upset. He gave me his stamp of approval when I met my husband. He actually peed on my guy in the first few weeks we were dating to "mark" him. It definitely wasn't done as an insult either; he was staking his claim on my soon to be husband. Thankfully my guy had a great sense of humor about it. Moe was a fantastic judge of character. He was a wonderful cat. Rest in peace my beautiful Moe.
No comments:
Post a Comment