Posted on 07/28/2013 1:59:03 PM PDT by Lazamataz
My cat, Cathy, has become one of the most powerful spiritual teachers I have ever known. This article will briefly detail her history, the events that lead to her death, the conclusion of her life, and -- in detail -- what she taught me.
She was a little tiny kitten when I got her. She was weaned too early, and like many cats who are weaned too young, became extraordinarily attached to me. She grew rapidly, becoming a flush of pure black fur, a flower of a cat who bloomed pure beauty. She loved my company above all else, following me into any given room just to be with me. She seemed to be indifferent to, or actively hate, most everyone else. As my cats always do, she named herself with her behavior. Disliking most everyone else, she named herself CAT Hates You. CAT-H-Y. CATHY.
There came a time, four years into our cat-human relationship, when I needed to go somewhere to get medical treatment. I would be gone for a while, so I put her with a cat boarder. She didn't take well to being away from me, or her familiar surroundings, and stopped eating. For an obese cat (which she became) this could be fatal, I discovered later. An obese cat who stops eating will process thier fat, but the liver of a cat is ill-designed for this, and Cathy quickly developed Hepatic Lipidosis (fatty-liver disease).
When I heard of her situation, I quickly returned, coming to the veterinarians very regularly to spend as many hours as I could with her. Several clinic technicians remarked that they had seen a lot of 'patients' and a lot of owners, and only rarely did someone come in as often and stay as long, and they assured me that she was loved more in these four years than many animals were in a lifetime. Cathy clearly loved my company, expressing it with excitement at my arrival and joy at my presence. She would vocalize the minute I came into view, and she would stand to greet me. When I had her in my lap, she would knead on my shirt and arm, and butt my arm with copious head butting.
But she looked horribly jaundiced. The liver was not working well. For the next week, I asked the veterinarian to aggressively treat Cathy, even placing a feeding tube in her esophagus when she stopped voluntarily eating. She had a few good days, and we spent so much great high-quality time together. My hopes soared! Perhaps this was reversible. The more-experienced animal doctors warned me that her chances were still indeterminate, but I clung to hope like a rescue rope in a cold ocean.
There was a day when she turned for the worse again, and the improving liver-related blood work got worse. I asked the veterinarians what they could do? "Spare no expense," I said, "try to save my little girl." They did as I asked. It was to no avail. Her decline was precipitous and alarming. I continued to visit, well-aware of her impending death, but still hopeful for a miracle. Between sobs, I spent as much quality time with her as humanly possible. On the last day, she was so miserable, and her liver-related blood work was so bad, it became clear that I should release her from almost-guaranteed horrific suffering and eventual death.
We brought her to the room where I first saw her at the hospital -- a warm, friendly room. I asked for a reclining chair so she could be on my chest, which was her favorite place to be in the entire world. Weeping with intense sadness, I said my goodbyes and let her know where she was going. She was so very miserable, I could see it in her eyes. I put her back on my chest, and told the doctor to introduce the euthanasia drug.
When the drug hit her, she swiveled her head suddenly, and gazed at me for a long second that seemed like eternity. This look utterly haunted me for a while after. In her eyes, I saw two things: surprise, and 'Daddy, comfort me.' At the time, I had no response, mental or verbal. In retrospect, my only response was, "I'm giving you comfort, honey. I'm giving it to you." Then she laid down and died, on the chest of her loving owner and best friend.
After she passed, my reaction took me completely by surprise. I stopped crying completely. The veterinary team asked if I wanted to spend time with the body, but the idea repulsed me. "This is not Cathy," I said, "Cathy is gone. Get it off me!" They did. I walked outside, and felt as if someone had hit me in the head with a ball-peen hammer. I felt completely devoid of emotion, stunned, somewhat confused. It scared me. What was happening to my emotions?
I was surrounded that day and the rest of the night with people who loved me. One of them advised me that the numbness I experienced was very normal, and that it was called 'emotional shock'. He mentioned, with some sincerity, that the emotions would return, and in force.
They did. The next day, I finally had time to be completely alone. Without warning, I found myself flooded with tears and crying in deep, body-wracking, soul-wrenching sobs. At some point, after the crying subsided, something very odd happened. I established contact with a power greater than myself -- call it Spirit, God, or the universe, whatever power you wish to call it -- and I got some amazing answers for the many questions I had. These are too personal to share with the public, but I have told my friends. Clearly Cathy had a purpose. It was clear I got what so few of us get -- answers for some hard questions. I became aware of what her purpose was, in my life. She was a very special kitty . Most of us do not get to know the 'whys' of life, and especially death. I am remarkably lucky, or remarkably blessed. There have been many wonderful spiritual lessons I was shown, through her life and her death.
I carried so much guilt and shame. I started engaging in the "What If" game. What if I had done something different? The answer was clear, and was told to me by a Higher Power -- not in words, but in feelings: She was intended to die, at this precise time, to reveal to me some important and unshakable truths. "What if" was useless. There was nothing I could have done that would have prevented her death. No matter which way I turned, and no matter how hard I struggled to save her, she was supposed to die now.
The guilt and shame lessened greatly, and I began discovering the truths that have been revealed to me.
One of them was that there was the tiniest bit of joy imbedded in grieving. I felt a small amount of joy, because I was alive, and I was able to feel grief at all. I loved her -- and she, me -- and that is why I grieved. There is joy in that love, and there is joy in being able to feel, especially after my brush with numbness when I was in emotional shock.
Another thing that became apparent was that I was there for her, in every way I could be. Some of us have the opportunity -- nay, privilege -- of being with our pet while they are dying, and others of us do not. But for all of us, if we love our pet as much as I did, we did all we were given the chance to do.
I learned from experiencing four years with Cathy that I am capable of giving, and receiving, unconditional love. This revelation surprised me.
I learned to be present in the moment. At one time when she was a little better, when she was on my chest purring, I let go of the possible future and outcome, and I stepped out any regrets about the past -- I was just with her. Simply with her. I felt her, warm, on my chest, rumbling with the loving purr, and I thought, "This is so nice. This feels good." That moment is eternal. I shall always keep it with me. It informs me that it is so important to be present and in the moment with our pets, and our loved ones, right now. The moments we make become like concrete, solidified in our souls, so that they may be treasured and kept for all eternity. It seems that if we are present in the moment, we might actually be able to live a million lifetimes, as each moment becomes pure and timeless.
I discovered the purpose of money, used to treat my little girl and make her as comfortable as possible. I used to think so wrongly about it. Money was a scorecard, and a way to acquire the shallow, the ultimately meaningless: The cool car, the nice house, the good-looking woman. I discovered that money had one fundamental purpose: To care for those you love. Any other use was an off-brand use.
I learned to listen to the voice of my Higher Power, who I call 'God'. I was repeatedly given impressions from this Power, impressions that were borne out as truth, in the fullness of time.
I found that the most important thing to do immediately upon grieving was to be surrounded by people who love me. I also found that it was important, after the initial shock subsided, to be alone, to grieve in earnest.
And finally, I learned the importance of memorializing the ones you love who depart. I memorialize her in many ways: How I live my life, the love I share with others, even this very article -- these are all memorials. I shall also create a loving headstone and place her remains in a tranquil place.
There have been many miracles surrounding this -- serendipitous events, large and small that I will not share here. They show me that my conclusions are sound and that my direction is good.
Please know one thing unconditionally: I understand what people who lose pets experience. It is my fondest hope that someone reading this gets something they need, and can find from it, some solace and some comfort.
Lovely girl, Laz. I lost my kitty in May- she was 20. She was with me almost half my life. I lost a family member in her... still grieving.
I can relate, hon. Hopefully this treatise gives you some measure of peace.
Wow, excellent. I'm so glad you got something out of that.
So sorry to hear about your loss of Cathy. We are big cat lovers and have lost our share of them over the years. Fortunately they have all lived to ripe old ages. Regardless, it’s still heartbreaking when they die.
Thank you so much, soozla.
God bless you for sharing that beautiful post with us, Laz
Now go hit something
I’m coping....until I’m not.
It goes back and forth.
When I’m not busy with the baby, I start to think..ya know?
Then I cry.
He’s doing much better than I am.
I feel so bad for Laz I can’t stand it.
I’m so sorry your Cathy is gone and sorry that a dick polluted her thread.
One jerk did the same thing with my Halla.
I will never understand people.
What a pretty baby. I’m so sorry for your loss. Hubby and I lost our beloved cat Holly a couple of years ago. We literally keened for her for a week. We’ve both lost our parents and our favorite siblings, but never did we mourn like we did for that little sweet cat.
I’m glad you found solace from Providence.
I've never met a single Freeper, but I connect and am connected to, so many times .. so many ways.
Thank you dear brother, for another look into your growing and glowing heart.
God cares for us.
What a beauty!
And what a lovely article.
Beautiful Kittypal, Laz.
I still miss the Stripey Guy, and it’s been almost thirty years now. Had to have him euthanized as well, I stayed with him through it, too. The emotions hit while I was at the vet’s office, though.
We had an extraordinary connection. He’d climb down off of the shed at the end of the carport and drape himself around my neck when I came home and happily stay with me walking around, cooking, doing dishes; until I’d bend down to the breakfast bar and ask him to hop down. The elderly neighbor lady (raging leftist, and not one of the naive ‘I love FDR’ types) caught him in traps and turned him in to Animal Control a couple of times, while telling me over and over how much she loved him and other cats.
I went to claim him from AC once. He went BALLISTIC with affection and recognition when I walked in. The officer said ‘I’ve never seen a cat do anything like that before’. I went into the office to get him out and totally deadpanned them. “What are the charges? Why has he not been allowed access to counsel? Has a public defender seen him? What about his ‘phone call?” I rattled off like that for several minutes straight, and they waived the fine. “Just go get him his cat.”
I managed to get out of sight with Stripe before I broke into hysterical ‘I can’t believe I just did that’ laughter.
Miss you every day Stripey bud.
The eyes say everything.
Lovely kitty cat.
Laz—
We were building a house a few years ago. It was far enough along to venture to the second floor for a glass of celebratory wine. Shortly into the “party”, there was the sound of a baby crying. We were startled! Julie said she thought it was a cat. We descended the unfinished stairs, emerged to the driveway/construction mess. From under a pallet came this pathetic little creature with an infected eye, dirty and skinny, about three months old.
Someone dumped him at the site. There was no negotiation. Each advance toward adoption ... I accepted without difficulty, though I had no cat growing up, only dogs. I already loved the pathetic little creature.
Fast forward 3 years. This little guy, Puddle Jumper is his name, is the center of our life. We love him so dearly, and he continuously returns the favor. How did I go for 59 years without knowing?
We consider him a gift from God, one of the greatest we have received, and he is carrying some very special Spirit within him. What a friend he is! Last night we planned to leave him alone overnight. Near midnight, when our away engagement ended, we changed our plan and decided to drive back. At 2am, there he was sitting on his “tree stand”, on the second floor overlooking the driveway, waiting. Wow.
I am sorry you lost your kitty. We are very thankful for our best friend, while we have him. God bless you, Dear.
So sorry man. I know that the one thing sadder than losing a pet, is losing that special pet.
I had many cats and loved them all.
The last love of my life crawled under my bed at 0400 and started to cry.He never did that.I pulled him out and he couldn’t walk.I took him to the Pet Emergency.
He was diagnosed with a saddle thrombosis.
By 0500 he had passed.
The date was Oct 4.The feast day of St.Francis,the patron St of animals.
So sorry for the loss of your kitty.
I do know....it’s been years, and I still think about it. They get inside your heart and stay there until the day your life is over.
God’s holding you close, and Laz, too.
God bless you brother man thanks for sharing this.
My Pepper was a sweet lab, both deaf and blind in her last year, she was amazing as I watched her make her way around the house after she went blind. She would walk the walls and that's how she found the doors to the different rooms. She knew where her food and water was and could still lick clean the little bit of food I left on my dinner plate for her. Its been since Feb. when she decided it was time to go...My son had just filled up the big red step can that held a full bag of food. I had knee surg. just a couple of weeks before & I had to have her put down....She did something she had never done before, sometime during the night she tipped over the whole can of food. When I got up in the morning, still using a leg splint and walker I found her laying on the kitchen floor unable to get up. She must have eaten at least 8 pounds of that food. I cleaned up 17 handfulls of undigested food on the floor of 2 rooms. My daughter cleaned up 11 more and only 1 small pile of diarrhea. We couldn't get her up on her feet, as I sat down beside her and lifted her head, she took a few laps of water and put her head back down. She wasn't a dog that licked you, but she licked my hand after I gave her a drink. I was unable to take her to the special vet that cremated your pet and would give you the ashes if you wanted.
My daughter carried her to her car (all 80 pounds of her) she had put down Peppers special blanket and pillow and she said Pepper licked her hand also and laid her head on her pillow. I couldn't go with her because of the knee surgery. The really great thing the vet did was take a paw print of her, with her name on the plaque. It even has the small amounts of dirt from between her toes in the plaque. I treasure that. I do believe she knew what she was doing when she gorged herself to a point that after all the throwing up she couldn't give any more.
Like your tears in writing about your beautiful cat that came through, writting about Pepper who has been gone since feb. and I didn't think I would cry about her any more. The tears are coming for your Cathy and my Pepper...
Her blindness was from a very rare eye disease that causes a dog to go blind om as short a time as 12 hours to 1 week and there is no cure. The rods and cones in the back of the eyeball suddenly die. It was scary when she went blind, already being deaf and I told her we'll will take it one day at a time as long as she still eats and wags her tail.
She licked our hands but didn't have the energy to wag her tail.....I am crying for both of us...
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