Posted by Jackie on 5/4/2008, 12:18 pm
24.150.47.247
Axl,
I remember the first day I saw you. Sitting in a cage at PetValu, your poor paws on the bare wire. I reached through to pet you, and you lifted your chin for me to scratch it, purring constantly. The clerk told me you loved cat grass, so I bought a container for you to munch on. You went crazy as soon as they put it in your cage. I was in love. We didn’t adopt you right that second; we went home to talk about it – as if there was any possibility that you wouldn’t be coming home with us the second I saw you.
We went to Burlington Animal Aid the next day to sign the papers. They asked us lots of questions, making sure that we’d give you a good home. We picked you up the same day. As soon as I lifted you out of the cage, you wrapped your paws around my neck, and wouldn’t let go. Chris had to handle all the papers and stuff – you wouldn’t let me put you down. We had to put you in a cat carrier to take you home. You weren’t pleased about it. Crying all the way home, we tried to soothe you by talking the whole time, and petting you through the cage.
As soon as we got home, we let you out of the cage. There, you met your arch nemesis, Lucy. I know you always had a rough time with her, especially on the claws issue. If you had always been mine, I never would have taken your fingers away. You spent a lot of time getting used to the apartment, and particularly your new housemate. You stayed in the office for almost a whole week. I even slept on the floor with you one night. We were worried you wouldn’t adjust, and we didn’t want you to be scared. You finally started to come out of the office on short trips, making sure we were at home when you did.
Once you relaxed more, you really made yourself at home. Snoozing in any available patch of sunlight, begging for table scraps, yelling at us when you knew it was time for bed and we were still awake. A few weeks after you came to us, we realized something was wrong. Your bum was all swollen. We rushed you to the Burgess emergency clinic. They told us you were very constipated. Thus began a pretty unhappy time in your life. You had to get an enema, and lots of fingers were poked up your butt on a regular basis. I can’t imagine you enjoyed that. In fact, you were pretty vocal about your opinions on the subject. You started to get stopped up every few days. We’d return to the vet, you’d be subjected to more pain and humiliation, only to repeat it all over again. You’d cry at just the sight of your cat carrier. The vet told us that the only hope of you having a normal life again was to have an operation.
We scheduled the operation for a few weeks later. We still didn’t know what was causing the problem, but we hoped the operation would fix it. A few days and a large length of colon later, you were pooping again. Yay! I realize poo isn’t normally cause for celebration, but it meant you wouldn’t be in constant agony anymore. You seemed much happier too. Then, you pooped on the bathmat. This wasn’t long after the operation, so we figured it was just a side effect. You were still getting used to pooping again, and it was hard to control. No big deal, just buy a new mat. I’d like to take this moment aside to say you had the stinkiest crap I have ever smelled. Whoo!
So, we bought a new mat, and you pooped on it. Okay. No leaving the mat on the floor when not in use. Problem solved. Missing the litter box a bit, can’t really fault you for that. You always were a big pee-er. Got a litter box with a higher lip and a lid. No more leaks and spills. There were still occasional accidents here and there, mostly on dirty laundry and the like. Accidents happen. You were such a great cat; it didn’t seem like anything we couldn’t get by. You’d curl up between us every night, demanding your place on the bed. We made do with the three or four inches you’d leave us.
After the operation, you were on special hypoallergenic food. We felt so bad that you never got any special treats – we still had no idea what you were allergic to. Gradually, we came to realize that it was mostly beef and milk, but we were still pretty careful. After about a year with us, we found a brand that made hypoallergenic treats that didn’t make you sick. Wow, were you ever excited. We’d just pick up the bag, and your tail would poof out like a raccoon. Come to think of it, every time you’d see them, that’s what you’d say, ‘Wow, wow, wow’.
When we’d get dressed in the morning, you’d attack Chris’ belt, and my bra. You had one very favourite toy – a feather boa on a stick. You’d grab the feather part in your mouth, and walk around the house yelling, as if to say, “I am the mighty hunter. I have slain this fearsome beast for you.” You would walk around yelling at it until you found one of us to show your kill to. We’d tell you that you were such a good boy for killing the evil toy. You were a very good boy.
You’d make sure we were paying attention to you by curling your paw around an arm and pulling the hand over to your head. If we woke you up, you’d coo at us, as if to say, “Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you come in. Is it time for food? You can just pat me until it is, okay?” You were so full of love, always wanting to be right next to us, wherever we were. If one of us was in the office, you’d commandeer the chair of the other. If we were both in there, well, one of us had better make room. Always curious, always wanting to see what was going on. You were the happiest in a warm lap, or lying beside us on the bed. I wish I could go upstairs right now and see you lying in the sun, popping your head up with a quizzical purr, to see who had come to visit.
If we went to bed while you were doing something else, you had a hard time finding us. Usually we had to come downstairs and show you up to the bedroom so you wouldn’t cry. I think you were always afraid we’d leave you alone. It worried me that you had so much trouble finding us. You had begun to have more and more accidents. When we moved in to the house, we thought it would get better, because you’d have more space. More room to run around, or hide from Lucy, if needs be. But it just got worse.
Every day, we’d find a puddle, or some poop that had missed the box. We thought you were having stomach problems again, but the vet said they couldn’t find anything wrong. So we took you home again, and the accidents continued. Everywhere. I know you didn’t mean to make the messes you did. I know it wasn’t on purpose. I’m sorry about the times when I lost my temper and called you a bad boy. I didn’t mean it. You were a good boy, buddy.
After a while, we just couldn’t keep up with the messes anymore. We were frustrated, and I’m sure you were too. We talked about different things to try, different ways to either get you to use the box, or to confine the messes to a tolerable area. Nothing worked. God, I wish something had.
In the end, we took you to the vet in Brantford. I’m sure you could tell I was really upset. I know it made you worried, and that was the last thing I wanted. We tried to put you in your cat carrier, but you wouldn’t go. My heart was breaking. I couldn’t find the strength of will to make you get in that cage, knowing where we were going. So I held you the whole way there.
All three of us were very upset, the only difference being that you were they only one who didn’t know why. We had to stop on a highway ramp, because I had to throw up. Until then, you had been wrapped up in my arms, with your paws around my neck, just like the day we brought you home. Once I got back in the car, you crawled around and curled up on my neck, resting against the seat. You stayed there until we got to the clinic.
We brought you inside, and I knew you were scared. You were shaking so hard. I could feel your muscles tremble. My poor boy. I wish we could talk. I never wanted to leave you buddy. The vet came in and spoke with us. He told us what would happen, that they would give you an injection, and once the injection was empty, you would be gone. They took you away and put a shunt in your leg. You kept shaking your paw to get it out, and trying to jump on the chair where we had been sitting. Where you had been safe. I kept telling you, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I know you knew it wasn’t. I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t want you to be afraid.
I helped them hold you there as they injected you. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I whispered to you as the syringe emptied, “Don’t worry buddy. It’s okay.” I hope you knew my voice, and that we never left you. We were with you to the very end. You gave a little growl, and you were gone. So fast. I didn’t think it would be so fast. I never got to tell you I loved you one last time. After you were gone, the vet left. I kissed you, and told you I loved you, and that you were a good boy. Chris told you he was sorry, and that he loved you. We both broke down, and we had to leave.
We both carry you with us. It’s been two days of sadness, guilt, tears, and regret, with many more to come. I wish you peace, rest, and lots of kitty treats. I miss you every second you’re not here. I hope your time with us was the best time of your life. We love you so much. We miss you so much. You’ll never be alone again – you’ll always be with us in our hearts. My handsome boy, I wish you happiness and peace forever. I hope I see you again. I hope you still love me as I love you. I hope you understand.
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