Monday, June 20, 2016

Day 111 - The Quiet Place

     "Just ring the bell when you arrive and we'll unlock the door for you."  I slowly hung up the phone and looked at the kitchen floor.  My happy healthy kitty was gone.  She had gotten progressively worse since her last two visits to the vet.
     "She's so soft," they would always say.  This was usually followed by "I'm so sorry."
     I had tried everything I could to keep her comfortable.  I tried the expensive cat food.  She liked plain grilled chicken better.  I played with her a bit more so she felt more engaged.  She slept under the covers behind my knees to stay warm.  I made sure the faucet was on before my shower so she could get fresh water.
     Over the past few days none of this mattered.  She had found her quiet place in the house.  She followed me downstairs in the morning to see me off to work but other than that she stayed in her quiet place.  She lost all interest in toys and looking out of the common windows.
     I was used to coming home to a cheerful 'I miss you' meow followed by a thumping of paws down the stairs but lately there was silence.  I found myself laying next to her and stroking her soft fur until she gathered the strength to venture from the quiet place.
     I had moved her food and her litter box near the quiet place so she didn't have to fight stairs every time she needed to eat or use the bathroom.  The stairs were no longer her friend.  Even after I moved it she was barely making it to the litter.
     I started going home for lunch to pet her and make sure she was as comfortable as possible.
     A few days ago I went home for lunch to make sure she was ok.  She stumbled into the bathroom and barely peed in the litter.  She then slowly made it back to the quiet place near the bed.  I open up the crawl space so she could sit near her other favorite window.  She perked up for a moment then stumbled back to the quiet place.
     I decided to finally let her outside after eight and a half years.  She got in the sun and you would have thought she was a kitten.  She was sniffing around.  She was alert.  She actually tried to bolt passed me.  When I brought her in the house her spirits were up.  She was so happy.
     Unfortunately the vet was right.
     "When the turn for the worse comes," he said, "it will come quickly.  Her disease has advanced to the point where her decline will be rapid.  She could go from playful kitty to suffering in a snap."
     She fell trying to get water from the faucet at three in the morning.  Nothing was broken but I could tell she was weaker than just hours before and confused.  I cradled her in my arms like a baby but she fought to get down.  As I set her down I noticed her back right leg was dragging and she couldn't keep her head up anymore.
     She desperately looked for new quiet places in the house but couldn't get comfortable.  I felt the lump growing in my chest and the welling of tears in my eyes.
     "I think it's time," I choked out after I gave the vet all of the necessary information.
     "Just ring the bell when you arrive and we'll unlock the door for you."  I slowly hung up the phone knowing soon my kitty would be in her final quiet place.

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