#122 The night the cat died

The first Christmas at our daughter’s new home, the exterior outlined with lights, was lovely. Our son-in-law moved the kitchen table into the empty dining room and with the extensions, it seated nine easily. She prepared turkey and ham, several vegetables, lots of non-alcoholic wines and beer. With our son and our daughter's in-laws we had a full table.

About 5:00 p.m. our son got a call from the emergency room veterinarian where he had taken his cat in the morning. He had noticed that she'd been losing weight and had stopped eating. He asked me about it on the 24th and I said to call his vet immediately, which he did but couldn't get an appointment for her until the 26th. Christmas morning he could hear a rattle when she breathed and she couldn't jump up on anything. So he rushed her to a clinic on the northeast side.

When he didn't come back to the table after the call, I went into the family room and found him quietly sobbing with the vet on the phone. She had told him there was a 50-50 chance his cat couldn't live through the night--kidney failure. They had rehydrated her, but without functioning kidneys even that could kill her. He told her he'd call back. We talked a bit and although he first said he couldn't bear to be there, I told him I didn't think the pet he loved so much should die without him. So we made our apologies to our hosts and the other guests and we drove him to the clinic--he was so distraught I knew it wasn't safe for him to drive.

With no traffic, it was still a 30 minute drive to the emergency clinic. I will never forget the sight of this big man--190 lbs, over 6' tall--on his knees cradling the kitty he says saw him through everything the last 10 years--"all the shit"--as he so aptly put it. The IV had perked her up and she looked pretty good, but I could see she didn't try to crawl out of the blanket or off the table and didn't seem to respond to his voice.

He cried and swore and told her he was sorry. I dealt with this often in my job--people had a sick or dying or dead pet--horse, cat, dog, guinea pig--and they’d call for reassurance they have or are doing the right thing. But I'd never seen or heard anything like this. Or it was worse because my “baby” was suffering too. The vet was kind, told him he could wait, but he said to go ahead. When we got back to our daughter’s home, he had calmed down enough to drive himself home.

When we got home about 9 p.m. I called him and spent an hour on the phone with him. He was still crying, full of all the "what ifs," saying he'd killed his pet, wanted to talk to the vet, was afraid he'd done the wrong thing. He was very grateful we'd gone with him and touched that we'd petted her before the injection. When I talked to him the next morning, he was much better and was caring for his girlfriend‘s kitten, and said he was surprised that it was a comfort to him.

I told him that the Bible says nothing about animals going to heaven, but if in order to be perfect for him, his kitty will be there waiting for him, because we do know from scripture, that there is no sorrow in heaven. He’s had several cats and dogs since that Christmas Day of 1997, but none will ever take her place.