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Goodbye, my best friend
Apr. 23rd, 2007 10:47 amEmma, the world's best kitty-cat, died this morning after a very bad weekend. Her kidneys were really gone, and I guess she may have had pancreatitis, too. She couldn't walk well since Friday, but I had hoped the fluids and other awful stuff they did to her would help, only she went downhill at a fast clip. I am surprised she lasted through last night, but she was still fighting when I took her in this morning to have her euthanized. She was a stubborn girl, my Bemma. She was obviously in great pain, couldn't see well, and was confused and disoriented, but she held on.
I always made a big deal about what a psycho she was -- I have some nasty scars from her severe biting frenzies, her scratching and Alien-face-hugger attack mode, but that was only sometimes. Most of the time, with me, she was a sweet, well-behaved girl who never gave me trouble, never scratched furniture or peed on random things. And she was such a good sport -- she let me treat her like a bendy toy and play with her paws and tail, which a lot of cats won't do. Yeah, sometimes it was fine until it wasn't fine and then I'd get the bites to prove it, but mostly, she was a good old gal. And she was my best friend -- she saw me through multiple jobs, unemployment, breakups, and deaths. Even at the end, she was such a good girl --she became incontinent on Sat. night, but she went into the kitchen to drink her water and then pee, as if she knew that it was better to do it on the vinyl floor, and sometime last night she obviously couldn't make it into her litterbox, so she peed in the litter-tracking mat on the outside of the box, making it easy for me to clean. It was like she knew I could clean up the vomit on the carpet, but not the pee.
My favorite pictures of her were all taken back in the days before digital cameras, so I don't have those electronically. But these are some digital pics I haven't posted yet, I believe. I wish I could say that I was handling it all right, but I'm not. I'm devastated and the house is incredibly lonely, and I feel like I betrayed her by bringing her to the place she hated so much to do mean things to her. I convinced my sister to go to a hospice center and she didn't want to die there, and I feel like I did that all over again with Emma, and I let her down. P.S. Thanks, Morgan Dawn, for talking about this with me last night.
And so I really don't care that these aren't cut-tagged.
I always made a big deal about what a psycho she was -- I have some nasty scars from her severe biting frenzies, her scratching and Alien-face-hugger attack mode, but that was only sometimes. Most of the time, with me, she was a sweet, well-behaved girl who never gave me trouble, never scratched furniture or peed on random things. And she was such a good sport -- she let me treat her like a bendy toy and play with her paws and tail, which a lot of cats won't do. Yeah, sometimes it was fine until it wasn't fine and then I'd get the bites to prove it, but mostly, she was a good old gal. And she was my best friend -- she saw me through multiple jobs, unemployment, breakups, and deaths. Even at the end, she was such a good girl --she became incontinent on Sat. night, but she went into the kitchen to drink her water and then pee, as if she knew that it was better to do it on the vinyl floor, and sometime last night she obviously couldn't make it into her litterbox, so she peed in the litter-tracking mat on the outside of the box, making it easy for me to clean. It was like she knew I could clean up the vomit on the carpet, but not the pee.
My favorite pictures of her were all taken back in the days before digital cameras, so I don't have those electronically. But these are some digital pics I haven't posted yet, I believe. I wish I could say that I was handling it all right, but I'm not. I'm devastated and the house is incredibly lonely, and I feel like I betrayed her by bringing her to the place she hated so much to do mean things to her. I convinced my sister to go to a hospice center and she didn't want to die there, and I feel like I did that all over again with Emma, and I let her down. P.S. Thanks, Morgan Dawn, for talking about this with me last night.
And so I really don't care that these aren't cut-tagged.
