Saying goodbye

My mom always told me to write down what I was feeling. I have this uncanny ability to bottle up my emotions for such extended periods of time that sometimes you would think that all I can be is happy. I know that you all don't like when I post negative things - so just know you don't have to read any further than this. But this is the way I was taught to cope with emotions, so here I will write my feelings about Chloe. No. It was not peaceful.

Over the weekend she had been a little wobbly on her feet. We didn't think much of it, but on Sunday night, when she had gone to the bathroom outside of the litter box and woken me up with her meows, I knew I had to take her to visit the doctor. Chloe never meows. Monday morning we went to the doctor and I listed off her symptoms - going outside the box, meowing, and wobbly. The doctor nodded and "something and something, probably another urinary tract infection, something something brain tumors in old cats, etc". They walked away to get the injection and in the minute they had left Chloe began chomping her jaws and spitting. "Something is happening!" I yelled for them to come back. By the time they had turned back into the room she had stopped. The vet happily wiped up her spittle and gave her a pat and told her it was nothing to stress about.

We had our shot and went back home. I tucked her into the blankets on the couch, and just like I always do before I leave the house, kissed her nose and told her Goodbye.

The day passed as most do. When I got home from work that night I walked in to the door to a sight I have never seen before. Chloe was walking in circles in the kitchen. Tufts of hair were all over the floors. I could see she had used the bathroom on herself and her fur was wet with spit. I immediately sat down on the floor and scooped her into my arms. I was wondering if the UTI was just catching up to her and the antibiotics hadn't had a chance to kick in yet. She was so happy to see me. She burrowed into my arms and took all of my kisses. But something was still not right. She started chomping again, and spitting too much. This wasn't right. It happened a few more times, about ten minutes apart, while we sat on the kitchen floor together. I immediately called James and asked him to come home. I called the vet back, too. They were leaving for the day but mentioned it might be seizures and that happens to old cats... they typically have brain tumors when they are this old. She told me to call the emergency vet hospital should it continue much longer.

In the meantime I sat on the couch, with Chloe in my arms googling... cat chomping... cat seizure... cat petit mal seizure... petit mal complex cluster seizures...

It was when I sat down the laptop and pulled her onto my lap that she had grand mal seizure. Her paws flailed, her nails dug into my arms, her jaws chomped wildly, she shook and trembled and convulsed and as soon as it was over she froze. She sat, frozen, in my arms, for another minute or two while I screamed and cried. I didn't know what to do.

I called the emergency vet number and forced out a description of what was happening and called James back and begged him to come home to take us to the doctor.

When we got to the vet they immediately took her into the back, out of site. They returned seconds later and asked to inject her with medicine, as she was already seizing again.

Several minutes passed and the doctor came in. She asked a lot of questions about Chloe. She told us that when they took her back her seizures had turned from several every few minutes into one constant long one. A static seizure. They had given her medicine to stop it but her brain was still fighting to seize. She was quick to tell us we needed to leave her there overnight and even quicker to tell us how much we were going to owe and that we needed to pay before we left.

So we left. I stayed up as much as I possibly could and called to check on her. By midnight they had stopped the seizing but she was not able to keep up her own body temperature. By 5 am they thought they had the seizures under control and we were allowed to pick her back up.

We had picked her up from the office with some medicine that she would have to take every 8 hours for the rest of her life. As soon as we started to drive home another seizure started. I called them back and told them the medicine wasn't working. They told me to just give her some more, and to let her be home for a while and maybe they would get better. If not, I needed to call my regular vet.

They did not get better. I held her to my chest for an hour waiting for her to be able to come to. She seized every ten minutes or so. After every seizure she would let out three small, sad meows. Almost as if she was looking for something or lost. Occasionally, after a seizure, she would try to run, confused. We were back at the vet by 8 am when they opened on Christmas Eve, that morning.

The vet looked over her, looked over the emergency vet's fax, and told me the medicine was not working. The only other thing they could do would be to give her medicine that would *maybe* make her stop seizing for another 2-3 hours and that "no decision is a wrong decision at this point" - something I had heard them say over and over on the phone to people who were coming to terms with their pet dying.

I held her, sobbing, for two and a half hours before I couldn't take her pain and suffering any more. She was so lost. And so tired. And I loved her so much I couldn't sit and watch her hurt any more. They came back in and it was over too soon. I cried for another two hours, doubled over her body, kissing her nose and telling her how sorry I was that I had to make this decision for her. That I loved her and I was so glad we had found eachother. And that I was so, so sorry.
                                            
I know that not everyone in the world understands the relationship between a person and their pet, and that even less people, unfortunately, value that relationship when the pet is a cat.

Chloe and I met eachother when I was about 8 years old. It was my mom's spontaneous pet purchase that put us together. It was clear, though, from the beginning that we were meant to be together. We developed a routine early on.

Every night I would crawl into bed and lift up the covers. She would poke around and crawl in, turning around and curling up with her head tucked under my chin and my arms wrapped all the way around her, like a stuffed animal. Every morning she would stretch on the bed and hop off, to sit outside the bathroom door while I got ready.

Every time I left the house I needed to kiss Chloe goodbye. She would kiss me goodbye, too. Which, unfortunately, would always leave me with some terrible cat breath right on the tip of my nose. And, of course, every time I came home I would open the door and call for her, but she was usually already waiting on the other side. I would scoop her up and we would give eachother kisses all over again.

This has gone on for eighteen years. Every day, kisses goodbye, every night, snuggling under the blankets. I never took our little routines for granted, though. I would squeeze her tight every night, tell her I loved her, and fall asleep with her purrs reverberating deep in my chest.

Even recently, blind in her old age, she would find me every night and sleep with me. When she woke up in the middle of the night, she would lick my forehead just once.

If it weren't for Chloe, I probably would not have gotten through grad school... or undergrad, high school, or grade school for that matter. She would lay on my homework when I needed a break, she would sit behind my laptop during 48 page research paper writing sessions, her fur would soak up all of my tears when I was feeling hurt or helpless. And she never ever asked for anything back. For 18 years.

                                            
The hardest part to understand about the pet and person relationship is how one-sided they always are. Think about it. That pet lives their whole life to see you walk through that door. They spend their entire day waiting for the time you get home and pat them on the head. They think about you constantly. They love you so much that even when you aren't there they need to be around your things. They follow you from room to room because they want to be by your side. It is entirely unfair.

We do our best to show them how much we love them. We buy them toys, and beds, and treats. We hold them close. But we can never show them the love they give us. We have jobs that require our attention, and school, and families. But they don't. All they have is you.

I am convinced this is why their lives are so much shorter than ours, typically. That they expend so much energy loving us that they could not possibly last the entire time. And that is terrible. I always knew that this day would come. But, I always expected it to come peacefully and I never ever prepared myself to make a decision like the one I was faced with.

It is my only wish to know that Chloe understood how much she truly meant to me. That I loved her with every piece of my being. That I cannot sleep without her purring next to me. That all I want is to be able to kiss her one more time. Where her nose met her forehead, where her little white hairs mixed in with all the dark ones, right above her little pink polka dotted nose.

Thank you for all of your love and support these past few days. I know I have been unable to respond back to most of you on facebook and through text, but please know that every time I see a kind, empathetic message, it makes me feel better to know that you understand what I am going through. Please, hold your pets closer. Make them know you love them, too. Give them all of the kisses that they can stand, and hold on to them as long as possible. I hope tonight, when you go to feed your puppies and kitties, that you feel an overwhelming joy to know that this is part of your routine and that you are so, so lucky to have it for another day.