I apologize in advance for the impending wall of text. I just had to get some of it out of my head and into words, somehow.
Our sweet girl Bella passed peacefully on her favorite super soft fleece blanket in our home yesterday afternoon, with my wife and I on either side, with the help of a wonderful local at-home vet service who did such an amazing job (I don't know how anyone does that job but you all are saints and I thank you eternally). She was 14, a beautiful floof of a cat that loved snuggling on the couch with us or doing her own thing as she saw fit... she was in charge and we just lived here, as they say.
I had experienced in-home euthanasia once before (family dog in 2015, I was already moved out of my parents' house at this point but it was the day after Christmas sadly so all of us were in town to see her go, which was a great blessing in hindsight), but this was different.. being the responsible ones, her owners to make that phone call, to make the decision, to give the final tearful nod when it was time to say goodbye for good... it just tore a piece out of me instantly, and the resulting the pain is immense and deep. I've never woken up feeling like my eyes had run a marathon the prior day. I've cried more in the last 24 hours than I have for any extended family members' passing combined. I'm crying as a write this. I've already taken the day off work Monday because I know I won't be able to handle it...
I never really thought I'd be a cat owner, now I can't imagine my life any other way. I "married into it," so to speak...my wife adopted Bella in college when she was 4, a mama's girl through and through. When I began dating my (now) wife in late 2015, I immediately appreciated Bella's level energy, her willingness to be pet and scratched for a few minutes and then wander off as if to say "you've filled your quota good sir, same time tomorrow, thanks. I'll bat at a toy or two if I decide I require further entertainment." She was wary of me early on, but over the years I was an acceptable substitute if my wife's lap was unavailable, and I'm forever grateful for that.
Over the years I developed a habit of occasionally snapping a photo any time Bella and my wife were napping on the couch together, I must have accumulated 4 or 5 dozen of these photos over the years. I chose ~40 of them and made a small "lullaby" slideshow for us to look back on, it's simultaneously comical how much those two snoozed together as well as soul-crushingly sad how we won't be able to capture another naptime moment the same way. I'll never look at a cozy fleece blanket on a couch the same way ever again.
Warning... next few paragraphs are getting into the sad and yucky details , which are not fun. In late June / early July of this year, we noticed her pawing at her face more than normal.. she had mild drainage from her eye and nose on one side of her face. The vet prescribed an antibiotic which I was in charge of administering, which was its own comedy of errors. Pills were futile from the get-go, so liquid was agreed upon.. the towel wrap "burrito method" (or 'purrito' as my wife coined) was hit-or-miss and usually caused more problems than it solved.. so I usually had to resort to calmly approaching her from behind with a small syringe of antibiotic and squirting it into her mouth before she had time to wriggle away. She'd always trot out of the room hacking and making these noises that broke my heart, looking back at me with "how could you?" in her eyes. It was a rough few weeks, but she got much better... until she didn't. I feel like owners of older pets know this pattern better than anyone. The drainage came back a few weeks later, goopier and with tinges of blood this time. Her face and eyelid were getting swollen on one side, she stopped grooming herself and her mane and paws were accumulating grime from the drainage. The vet found infection in her mouth and in early September she ended up having 6 rear teeth extracted on the infected side. More recovery, more antibiotics (this time we utilized a tag-team approach, wife held her and I syringe-d... it was a mild disaster at times but we all got through it), now with painkillers added to the mix. A few more rough weeks, but she got much better... until, she didn't. More vet visits, more exams, a new antibiotic... it wasn't getting any worse, but it also wasn't dramatically improving... The new antibiotic only tasted more bitter and caused excessive drooling, so we'd keep her in the bathroom for a few minutes to tend to her afterwards every time. Her extraction surgery had fully healed but the side of her face was still mildly swollen and required several hot compresses a day to reduce the swelling and drain some of the fluids more efficiently. She deserves so much credit for tolerating the warm wet rags to the face.. But she was struggling by this point... peeing outside of her litter box became a semi-regular occurrence. She'd glance at the sudden enticing movement of a toy or laser pointer, but then turn her head and continue on her way... no playing, no running, no yowling...we'd occasionally get a little upbeat trot out of her if we presented a saucer of juice from a tuna can... She was still eating, still drinking water, still going to the bathroom, still able to get around and climb up onto couches and beds... She'd still cuddle with my wife here and there, but sooner or later, she'd hop down off the bed or couch and wander off to "hide" in a dim corner of the bedroom closet, or under a living room chair, etc. One of those telltale signs that instantly tears you up inside.
She was surviving... but not truly living. Her mouth still randomly had fresh blood ready to leak out every other time we'd give her medicine. More than once we had to chase her down to clean her up, when she was trotting away shaking her head repeatedly and getting flecks of blood on the walls or carpet...... I'm sorry for going into the awful details. It's hard not to feel traumatized by it all, and I can't imagine how awful it was for her. We were doing our best to comfort her but we knew this wasn't helping any of us at this point. It became standard to bring a damp cloth with us when we'd go to pet her, because we knew her eye or nose or mouth would be a little yucky. At the time, we really hoped the teeth surgery was fixing a cause, and not just a symptom. We tried our best to help, and I hope she didn't resent us for it. We always gave her all the pets and chin rubs and behind-the-ear scritches she'd let us give during those tougher days, but we also knew she often wanted to be alone and tried to respect her space.
On Wednesday we managed to get her in to another vet for a second opinion, and they confirmed the worst... that the teeth extraction was likely necessary and the right thing to do given the circumstances, but if she's still having even worse problems a month and a half later after "healing," the problem is likely beyond saving in her older age, even with expensive and invasive surgeries. And so after several hours of difficult contemplating.. we agreed to make that awful phone call and to schedule that terrible appointment and eventually wait for that gut-wrenching knock at our front door... Even in the days, hours, and minutes leading up to that knock, she was still eating a little food, still drinking all the delicious broth we could pour her way, still going to the bathroom... but as I laid by her on the kitchen floor yesterday afternoon, mere minutes before it was time to say goodbye... I could see it in her fuzzy face, basking in the warm sunlight coming in.. I could see how tired she was. How there was still a tiny drop of blood trying to leak its way from the corner of her bad eye. It broke my heart into a thousand pieces... We knew it was time, and I wonder if she knew too.
I miss her so much. I miss the goofy spots she'd decide were her new favorites to calmly sit and stare at nothing every other week. I miss her closing our bedroom door on herself and proceeding to scratch at it at 4 in the morning to be let out (in hindsight this had to have been a devious intentional ploy on her part, but we'll never know for sure). I miss sleeping in on the weekends and finding her curled up against my feet at the end of the bed. I miss her stealthing into my office while I worked from home, silently climbing onto a nearby couch armrest, and scaring me out of my seat by loudly meowing a foot or two away, her way of politely requesting my lap for sitting all of five minutes before hopping down and finding something better to do. I miss her trotting to the kitchen to greet us and rolling around on the floor when we came home from a weekend out of town. I miss sitting in the lower level of our home and hearing her suddenly sprint upstairs and start yowling like a ferocious beast for no particular reason. I miss enticing her with a random toy on a string and gradually working her "old lady" self up so she'd finally hop a few inches into the air to snatch it from my hands. I miss her sixth sense of knowing when someone was lounging on a couch or chair with their legs extended on a footrest, she always found her way to nestle on our lap every time. The saddest part is we never experienced any of those things over the last 3-4 months, and we know she wasn't feeling like herself anymore. I know it's 1000% entirely selfish... but I'll always wish I could experience those moments one last time, because you never really know it's the "last time" of anything, until it's too late. </3 Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.
I love you Bella.
See you on the other side.
