No one knows the day or the hour
Jan. 11th, 2006 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThis is what it's like to care for a cat in her final days.
Her world, for the most part, is a wooden table in the middle of our kitchen, more particularly an oft-changed bath towel folded at its 50 yard line and separating her bottom from the cold of the wood and her increasing number of accidents. Her water bowl is at one end, the food bowl next to it for the two times a day she eats (and continues to, as ravenously as ever) from it at her usual times.
After meals, and whenever we can during the day, we carry her to the upstairs catbox. At least once since we've begun this routine, one of the males (who's lived with her the longest and has generally been indifferent to and/or afraid of her) has attacked her while she climbed out. I'm sure there's some jungle-era signaling going on that we can't see or smell, which tells the others, "Dying animal here- must keep her from turning into prey." So we shut the door and shoo the others, giving her even more privacy and protection.
Whenever we can, we hold her close, giving her still-soft fur plenty of massaging, and letting her rest comfortably in the feel and smell of people she knows to love and care for her. Usually, she's purring as loudly as she ever has while she's being held. Today, not so much. She's seemed restless about getting back to her towel, and I suspect to what lies beyond it.
When the sun's been out, a rarity these past weeks but for some brief moments this morning, we've moved the towel to a sunny spot and let her feel the natural warmth on her.
As in the lives of others we've lost, the end days bear much resemblance to the helplessness of the earliest ones. Esmeralda is probably in the kindergarten of her aging, when the gentle words of Suzy Becker's book, All I Need to Know I Learned from My Cat, ring truer than they ever did:
"Be tolerant-but not overly accommodating."
"Make your own hours."
"Scratch when it itches."
"Depend on others without losing your independence."
"Avoid company you do not like."
And especially,....
"Know all the sunny places."
She'll be in a much sunnier one very soon. A large orange ball of goo is making a place ready for her, along with the pets you've known and loved and carried to the edge of Rainbow Bridge.
Her world, for the most part, is a wooden table in the middle of our kitchen, more particularly an oft-changed bath towel folded at its 50 yard line and separating her bottom from the cold of the wood and her increasing number of accidents. Her water bowl is at one end, the food bowl next to it for the two times a day she eats (and continues to, as ravenously as ever) from it at her usual times.
After meals, and whenever we can during the day, we carry her to the upstairs catbox. At least once since we've begun this routine, one of the males (who's lived with her the longest and has generally been indifferent to and/or afraid of her) has attacked her while she climbed out. I'm sure there's some jungle-era signaling going on that we can't see or smell, which tells the others, "Dying animal here- must keep her from turning into prey." So we shut the door and shoo the others, giving her even more privacy and protection.
Whenever we can, we hold her close, giving her still-soft fur plenty of massaging, and letting her rest comfortably in the feel and smell of people she knows to love and care for her. Usually, she's purring as loudly as she ever has while she's being held. Today, not so much. She's seemed restless about getting back to her towel, and I suspect to what lies beyond it.
When the sun's been out, a rarity these past weeks but for some brief moments this morning, we've moved the towel to a sunny spot and let her feel the natural warmth on her.
As in the lives of others we've lost, the end days bear much resemblance to the helplessness of the earliest ones. Esmeralda is probably in the kindergarten of her aging, when the gentle words of Suzy Becker's book, All I Need to Know I Learned from My Cat, ring truer than they ever did:
"Be tolerant-but not overly accommodating."
"Make your own hours."
"Scratch when it itches."
"Depend on others without losing your independence."
"Avoid company you do not like."
And especially,....
"Know all the sunny places."
She'll be in a much sunnier one very soon. A large orange ball of goo is making a place ready for her, along with the pets you've known and loved and carried to the edge of Rainbow Bridge.
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 03:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 08:55 am (UTC)I'm kind of mad because this made me cry, but that's because I've been in this situation. You're a wonderful person to take such good care of her.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 10:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 12:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 05:05 pm (UTC)this is a very beautifully written and loving description.
hugs**
no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 06:33 pm (UTC)Currently owned by three cats and a Rottie and hoping it stays that way for some time to come...
no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-13 02:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-13 12:34 pm (UTC)BTW, I have his version in my files somewhere. Thanks for reminding moi.
I think I'd like to listen to it, now.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-14 01:12 am (UTC)Hold me
Date: 2006-01-19 10:08 pm (UTC)Sobbingly,
Your cat-loving neighbor