Living in farm country has meant living with a number of roaming semi-wild cats. Some are entirely wild; some are downright friendly with humans. Bitey was one of my favorites (despite the incident that got her her name)… not quite civilized, she’d avoid being caught, but once caught she’d purr up a storm. She and her extended family would drop by once a day or so to say “howdy” and “give us some food.” They have proven to be quite capable of taking care of themselves, so I didn’t have any particular fears for them when I went off to Maryland.
When I got home on Saturday, it didn’t take but a few minutes before Bitey showed up at my front door. But rather than the plump, frisky kitty I remembered, she was slow, skinny and coughing. Today I took her to the vet. And today I held her in my arms as the vet gave her the shot that quickly and peacefully stopped her heart.
Bitey had contracted feline leukemia, and was near death; the vet figured a few weeks, tops. A few weeks of pain, with the danger of infecting other cats. So I made the decision. Normally when I’d hold her, she’d put up with petting for a half minute or so then decide she’d had enough, and would squirm away. Today the vet wrapped her in a blanket and gave her to me to hold before they administered the shot; for ten minutes she just lay there peacefully, purring slightly, and looking at me. I know it’s irrational to anthropomorphise the feelings and motivations of cats, but I can’t shake the thought that she knew that she was in a bad way, and that she expected me to make it all better.
This last month has really sucked. On top of everything else, I now have one less little furry friend, and am left to wonder if she felt betrayed at the end. Because I didn’t make it all better. I just made the pain stop for her.
8 Responses to “Bitey was a good cat”
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I understand how you feel. The cat who lived with me and my family has been been poisoned by someone a few weeks ago and has come home to die, hiding in the basement. I found him too late. Probably it would have not mattered, nothing left to do, but…
that sad,
my condolences
:'(
My sympathies. We had a good cat friend, Mr. Kitty, who was diagnosed with FIV this summer. He was feral and he also knew we were there to help.
It’s never easy but knowing when to let a friend go is part of our stewardship. I’m sure Bitey didn’t feel in the least bit betrayed.
Last year, I had to hold my feline friend of 19 years, Pixel, a seal-point Siamese with a remarkable resemblance to Bitey, in just such a blanket. She had no particular illness; she was just so old that her years had finally caught up with her. We knew that she was failing; she was hobbling from sunbeam to food dish for single nibble, then back to sunbeam again, trying to grab warmth from that golden place in the sky. When her pain became obvious, we bundled her into a blanket and departed for a local animal hospital.
I have never, in my almost five decades of life, felt worse than when the kindly vet administered the final tranquilizer, and said, “This will be her last breath”. She died peacefully in my arms, a very, very old friend.
…but I still awake sometimes, in the middle of the night, and, in the silence and stillness, feel her in her curled-up place at my feet. But I can’t turn on the light, because I just can’t bring myself to see with my eyes that she isn’t there.
I’ve read your blog for quite sometime now, and have enjoyed it immensely, but never felt the urge to comment or reply; but the obvious nip in your soul that Bitey left behind moved me to let you know that “You are not alone”.
Somewhere (perhaps in a Heinlein story?), I once read that cats “weave in and out of our lives, just as they weave in and out from between our legs, spending eternity with their human friends, donning different bodies as they go”. I like to think I’ll meet Pixel again, some day. Here’s hoping that you meet Bitey, again, too, and share a sweet reunion.
Man, that’s tough. Take some time for yourself with your memories and her spirit.
Ms. Sophie (my companion) and I send our condolences.
My sentiments are just like Dean’s – we had the same experience with our cat of many years. I don’t know what else we could have done for him; he was aging and losing control of his hind legs. Still it was a horrible experience to hold him while the vet gave him the shot. For months I thought I saw him out of the corner of my eye. Even after we got two young kittens, I was looking around for Sparky.
You took good care of Bitey, especially when she needed it most. It feels awful because of the unconditional love pets give us. Still, you were there when she needed you. Gradually the pain will fade and the memories will remain…but in my experience, a little of the pain always stays, just to remind us how important they were to us, and we to them.
Thanks for all your kind comments. Even though Bitey was not “my” cat, the loss is nevertheless a hard one. Being basically an agnostic (albeit a heathen agnostic), I can’t say whether or not Bitey may have “gone on to a better place.” But I sure *hope* so. Someplace where the winters are mild, the mice are fat and slow, and the cars don’t move at all.