DreamFlightCpt.
Mouseketeer
- Joined
- Aug 18, 2016
- Messages
- 84
Part of me feels silly for writing this about a cat, but the rest of me doesn't care. Yesterday I had to put down my cat, Ruger. He was three years old and was suffering from kindey failure.
My wife and I adopted him when we were still dating, a couple months after we moved into our first apartment. I worked nights and she wanted something to keep her company while I was away. He was undersized and had an infection that almost caused him to loose one of his eyes. We nursed him back to full health and lived as happily as a cat could. I used to be able to fit him in my sweater pockets and carry him around. He became my little buddy, I would spend all day with him before I would go to work while my wife was away. My wife loved him too. He grew up handsome and smart and was a very good boy. He was inquisitive and loving and loved other animals too. He even got to know the love of a little brother, Sig that we adopted at the beginning of this year, so that Ruger could have a friend during the day since my wife and I both work 9-5s now. I'm happy he got to spend most of this year with another of his kind. He was with us while we were dating, engaged, and our first year of marriage, and we strongly believe that he even knew when my wife became pregnant before we did (six weeks now at the time of this writing).
I had a depressive period during late summer/early fall this year and he helped me through that. He knew something was wrong and would get me out of bed by licking my face and head until I would get up, then rub my face and purr to say "It's a new day, wake up! Everything is great!" Little did I know, at this point he's probably going through his own pain.
It was around this time we noticed he was loosing weight, and other things that weren't typical of him. He started to slow down, didn't play with Sig as much, and didn't seem to be eating as well. His annual checkup was earlier this week, so I took him in and told the vet our concerns. She examined him and found white gums and swollen kidneys. Combined with a 4lb weight loss on an already always lean cat, she said he didn't look good. I had labs drawn on him to see if they could find what was wrong in some hope he could be cured, but I knew inside that when they were already talking about "quality of life" and "days remaining" that it wasn't going to be good no matter what. My wife got the call with the results yesterday and immediately called me to say there was nothing we could do, and that he should be put to sleep. I was extremely selfish and I kept asking if there was anything we could do. I knew there wasn't, but I wanted to hear it anyway so I didn't doubt myself. I left work 3 hours early to spend time with my buddy and my wife. We snuggled with rugger for the next few hours and gave him all the tuna and treats he desired. He was on pain meds and for a little while he was happy as he could be. Purring and snuggling and messing around with his little brother. He wasn't pained at the moment and for a little while we could make believe nothing was wrong. Then the time came when we had to take him to the vet. I didn't want to put him in the carrier because he hated that thing. So my wife wrapped him in his favorite blanket and held him tight and kissed him the entire car ride. He was, as he always was, a good boy during the ride. He finally got to see what was outside the car, see all the houses and trees and even some stars in the early winter evening sky.
We brought him inside and held him a little more. We got into the exam room, but they set it up like a living room, with a house lamp on providing a comfortable soft glow and not the bright fluorescent lights that are normally on. He was scared at this point and when we put him down he hid under the counter. The vet came in and explained what was going to happened and we told them what we wanted to do. We wanted to be with him the entire time, and afterwards we wanted his remains cremated by himself. The took him back and he was fearful, but he never was fond of the vet anyway. They put catheter in his arm and gave him more pain meds them wrapped him in a warm towel and brought him back out to us. I held my Ruger and for the first time in a long time he was purring while I held him, and not trying to squirm out of my arms because he was uncomfortable or hurting. We kissed him and I kept saying "be a good boy" like I always did whenever I left the house for something and he would be sitting by the door. It was over fast and he wasn't in pain. We got to hold him and kiss him and surround him with love until the very end. He looked peaceful and I hope he felt all of our love.
There's a rose bush behind our new home that we bought. We haven't moved in yet, in the middle of some reservations. I am sad that he won't be able run down the halls or sit in the big bay windows I know he would have loved, but he loved flowers. Eating them, smelling them, watching them grow. He will be spread beneath the rose bush, and will help those roses grow in the spring. He'll always be there and in a way still be alive. The past 48 hours have been hard, and it doesn't get easier knowing that when I go home, he won't be waiting next to the door or at the top of the stairs looking for treats like he normally is. I'm fighting tears in my office as I write this, but it's a slow day and everyone knows how much I loved the guy. All this I've written, I haven't said to anyone yet or probably will say. Writing here is helping me cope.
Today, I listened to the Dis Ungplugged, new and old episodes to help me occupy my mind. The team always helps a little.
My little buddy, my good boy, my Ruger. I will see you again some day, for now I hope you're snuggling next to someone who needs it more than Momma and I do. I love you buddy, and you know that. Be a good boy.
My wife and I adopted him when we were still dating, a couple months after we moved into our first apartment. I worked nights and she wanted something to keep her company while I was away. He was undersized and had an infection that almost caused him to loose one of his eyes. We nursed him back to full health and lived as happily as a cat could. I used to be able to fit him in my sweater pockets and carry him around. He became my little buddy, I would spend all day with him before I would go to work while my wife was away. My wife loved him too. He grew up handsome and smart and was a very good boy. He was inquisitive and loving and loved other animals too. He even got to know the love of a little brother, Sig that we adopted at the beginning of this year, so that Ruger could have a friend during the day since my wife and I both work 9-5s now. I'm happy he got to spend most of this year with another of his kind. He was with us while we were dating, engaged, and our first year of marriage, and we strongly believe that he even knew when my wife became pregnant before we did (six weeks now at the time of this writing).
I had a depressive period during late summer/early fall this year and he helped me through that. He knew something was wrong and would get me out of bed by licking my face and head until I would get up, then rub my face and purr to say "It's a new day, wake up! Everything is great!" Little did I know, at this point he's probably going through his own pain.
It was around this time we noticed he was loosing weight, and other things that weren't typical of him. He started to slow down, didn't play with Sig as much, and didn't seem to be eating as well. His annual checkup was earlier this week, so I took him in and told the vet our concerns. She examined him and found white gums and swollen kidneys. Combined with a 4lb weight loss on an already always lean cat, she said he didn't look good. I had labs drawn on him to see if they could find what was wrong in some hope he could be cured, but I knew inside that when they were already talking about "quality of life" and "days remaining" that it wasn't going to be good no matter what. My wife got the call with the results yesterday and immediately called me to say there was nothing we could do, and that he should be put to sleep. I was extremely selfish and I kept asking if there was anything we could do. I knew there wasn't, but I wanted to hear it anyway so I didn't doubt myself. I left work 3 hours early to spend time with my buddy and my wife. We snuggled with rugger for the next few hours and gave him all the tuna and treats he desired. He was on pain meds and for a little while he was happy as he could be. Purring and snuggling and messing around with his little brother. He wasn't pained at the moment and for a little while we could make believe nothing was wrong. Then the time came when we had to take him to the vet. I didn't want to put him in the carrier because he hated that thing. So my wife wrapped him in his favorite blanket and held him tight and kissed him the entire car ride. He was, as he always was, a good boy during the ride. He finally got to see what was outside the car, see all the houses and trees and even some stars in the early winter evening sky.
We brought him inside and held him a little more. We got into the exam room, but they set it up like a living room, with a house lamp on providing a comfortable soft glow and not the bright fluorescent lights that are normally on. He was scared at this point and when we put him down he hid under the counter. The vet came in and explained what was going to happened and we told them what we wanted to do. We wanted to be with him the entire time, and afterwards we wanted his remains cremated by himself. The took him back and he was fearful, but he never was fond of the vet anyway. They put catheter in his arm and gave him more pain meds them wrapped him in a warm towel and brought him back out to us. I held my Ruger and for the first time in a long time he was purring while I held him, and not trying to squirm out of my arms because he was uncomfortable or hurting. We kissed him and I kept saying "be a good boy" like I always did whenever I left the house for something and he would be sitting by the door. It was over fast and he wasn't in pain. We got to hold him and kiss him and surround him with love until the very end. He looked peaceful and I hope he felt all of our love.
There's a rose bush behind our new home that we bought. We haven't moved in yet, in the middle of some reservations. I am sad that he won't be able run down the halls or sit in the big bay windows I know he would have loved, but he loved flowers. Eating them, smelling them, watching them grow. He will be spread beneath the rose bush, and will help those roses grow in the spring. He'll always be there and in a way still be alive. The past 48 hours have been hard, and it doesn't get easier knowing that when I go home, he won't be waiting next to the door or at the top of the stairs looking for treats like he normally is. I'm fighting tears in my office as I write this, but it's a slow day and everyone knows how much I loved the guy. All this I've written, I haven't said to anyone yet or probably will say. Writing here is helping me cope.
Today, I listened to the Dis Ungplugged, new and old episodes to help me occupy my mind. The team always helps a little.
My little buddy, my good boy, my Ruger. I will see you again some day, for now I hope you're snuggling next to someone who needs it more than Momma and I do. I love you buddy, and you know that. Be a good boy.
