Anyone who has a pet knows that there is an unpleasant bargain built into the arrangement. Unless you have a long-lived exotic pet like an African grey parrot or a Galapagos tortoise, you're going to outlive your animal companions.
And when you end up having an animal for well over half of your own adult life, and said pet's suffering has to be ended, it's not just like losing a family member, it's like having to kill that family member. But again, we all know the deal when we enter into it, we just convince ourselves over the years that the sad day will come tomorrow and tomorrow.
Shadow was one of the true characters that have passed through our menagerie over the years, more dog-like in temperament than cat-like, affectionate to the point of being needy. The photo here was taken probably around 2003-4, when she was fat, happy, affectionate. Over the last year, her senses and mind had deteriorated, and some sort of hyperthyroidism had set in, making her thin, irritable, mostly blind and deaf, wandering around yowling for hours on end sometimes.
And yet she still ate well and never had an accident; in fact, I believe that at least some of the distressed wandering was an indication that, while just senile enough to temporarily forget where the litter box was, she wasn't so senile that she'd drop a deuce on the living room rug.
Euthanizing a beloved pet is one of those terrible tasks, where you know it's the right thing to do, but that knowledge doesn't make the task any easier. But eighteen years is a pretty good run for a cat, especially when it's with good food and lots of love. Make sure to give your pet friends an extra pat or kind word. Rest in peace, old friend.
[Update 5/11/13 1:23 PDT: Thanks to everyone, here and at Balloon Juice and Eschaton, for the kind words and condolences. It really does mean a lot.]
And when you end up having an animal for well over half of your own adult life, and said pet's suffering has to be ended, it's not just like losing a family member, it's like having to kill that family member. But again, we all know the deal when we enter into it, we just convince ourselves over the years that the sad day will come tomorrow and tomorrow.
Shadow was one of the true characters that have passed through our menagerie over the years, more dog-like in temperament than cat-like, affectionate to the point of being needy. The photo here was taken probably around 2003-4, when she was fat, happy, affectionate. Over the last year, her senses and mind had deteriorated, and some sort of hyperthyroidism had set in, making her thin, irritable, mostly blind and deaf, wandering around yowling for hours on end sometimes.
And yet she still ate well and never had an accident; in fact, I believe that at least some of the distressed wandering was an indication that, while just senile enough to temporarily forget where the litter box was, she wasn't so senile that she'd drop a deuce on the living room rug.
Euthanizing a beloved pet is one of those terrible tasks, where you know it's the right thing to do, but that knowledge doesn't make the task any easier. But eighteen years is a pretty good run for a cat, especially when it's with good food and lots of love. Make sure to give your pet friends an extra pat or kind word. Rest in peace, old friend.
[Update 5/11/13 1:23 PDT: Thanks to everyone, here and at Balloon Juice and Eschaton, for the kind words and condolences. It really does mean a lot.]
Aw, I'm sorry. What a lovely kitty.
ReplyDeleteSorry for your loss, Man, I truly feel ya!
ReplyDeleteIt is so hard to make that choice, but as you said, that is always in the bargain. You gave Shadow love and a warm, safe home for 18 years, a good long time in cat years, and cared for her as her health declined because you loved her. That's what a good person and good pet owner does.
ReplyDeleteOur last kitty went to 18 too, and I sure hope the current one does.
I'm so sorry. Been through it myself. Yet, it is always worth it. RIP Shadow.
ReplyDeleteI'm really sorry to hear about your cat, H. RIP, Shadow, you've had a good run.
ReplyDelete