I knew there was a chance when I left on Friday that my little boy Duke (seen on the right) might not make it over the weekend and I was almost right.
He had been steadily ditererating over that last few weeks and I braced myself for the possibility that when I got home on Sunday, he wouldn't be here. But he was...barely.
He couldn't walk anymore, his breathing was labored, I could tell his kidneys had shut down, and he could barely meow. All he could do was lay there, only lifting his head to drink and shifting his weight. But I could tell he was still somewhat himself when he tried to get on my stomach while I lay next to him on the floor, it's just that his body just wouldn't let him.
Mom was distraught and I found myself having to be the strong one, when all I really wanted to do was break down. Being as broke as we are, our choices were limited, but the next day, when Duke started to cry out every time he tried to drink, we knew what we had to do. Mom called my uncle and he took care of the money so we could take Duke to the vet to be euthanized.
I had school that night but I wasn't going to let my mother do this alone. I've lost pets before, but most of the time it had been quick. I never saw them die. My mother on the other hand has been through this many times, but it wasn't any easier for her.
I was worried we were doing the wrong thing. Who were we to determine when he should die. But when I looked in his eyes, I saw how his eyes would glaze then focus and I knew he was already on his way out.
I told myself that no matter what, I'd see this through to the end. If your going to have pets, you have to be ready for this moment, and I felt that if I cowered away from it, I didn't deserve to have them. So I stood firm and sat there next to my mother as the doctor (a very nice woman who had taken care of Duke when he first got sick and who had taken a shine to him) knelt in front of us and injected him with a sedative to put him to sleep. Next came water to flush it through his veins quickly, then an overdose of another sedative that would stop his heart, and more water. I knew he was gone before the overdose hit his system. He had been so close to death that the sedative meant to put him to sleep had helped him cross over.
I looked at his face, into his eyes, and knew he wasn't there anymore. What lay in my mothers arms was nothing but a shell. Something I was no longer connected to. I cried...but silently. Almost as if I didn't have control over keeping the tears in my eyes any longer.I haven't really grieved yet and I know it. Since Monday I've been numb. I go through the normal routines, and try to keep myself distracted, but I know it's coming.
Hell...I welcome the distractions and no one but those closet to me notice that I'm not myself. But that's how I want it.
I don't want people to see that I'm not alright, because it leads to questions and answering those questions means thinking about what I don't want to think about.
But...at the same time I know I have to talk about it...so maybe this blog surves a purpose after all.
I don't know...
What I do know... is that no matter how hard loosing them might be, having pets is worth it every single moment of every single day...
Thanks for listening...
No comments:
Post a Comment