My Beautiful Audrey Options

[Little Miss Audr...]

I'd like to thank everyone in this forum for all of their posts. I've been reading for several days and I think I can finally tell my story about my little black and white cat, Audrey.

Audrey passed on Christmas morning. She had lymphoma in her heart and her kidneys had shut down. It was a terrible shock, as I didn't know she was so sick until the tests came back at the emergency clinic. She had stopped eating on Christmas Eve and was acting strangely. I didn't want to wait until after the weekend to help her. Six months before she had gotten a clean bill of health from her regular vet, so her condition must have come on quickly. She was only 9 years old. My husband and I made the decision to euthanize her rather than watch her decline and suffer. But, like one of the other folks here said about euthanasia, I felt like I killed her. When I saw her relax with the sedative, I wanted to tell the vet to stop, that this wasn't necessary, that the tests were wrong, that I loved her too much, anything to stop it.

All I could say the whole way home was, "I want my cat back." When I came in to my now cat-less house, I felt sure she would materialize there. When I look at the places where she used to sleep, I almost see her there before I realize again that she's gone. Every new realization brings on such pain. To top it off, I have loved ones in my life who want me to get over it - "it was just a cat, after all." My husband is very supportive, but I think he is baffled by the extreme grief I'm showing. He loved Audrey, too, but he's dealing with it differently.

I think that reading everyone's posts has helped me understand more about the grief I'm feeling, but I feel like it's tearing me apart. I sit and stare aimlessly, or I sob uncontrollably - my two options these days.

Thanks so much for reading.

[Tatem'sMama]

Brittle is such a good way to describe it. You can be going along at some version of fine and then snap.... everything falls to pieces. When you have a tight connection with your pet they know when you are sad, anxious, sick, happy. They know and they support us in their furry way. And I think they know when they are so sick and they won't get better but they put on a brave face for us. I think back to when my kitty Tatem was so sick before we let her go, she hadn't eaten in a week - but that was all that was different. She still played, curled around my legs when I was walking, crawled into my lap purring, everything. But when we were at the emergency clinic they look in her eyes was pleading with me to let her go. There was no accusation just the request (as huge as it was) for peace. She was so much braver than I can even think of being.

The other gift of our pets is complete unconditional love. No matter what. You can have the worst day imaginable but when you get home no one is as happy to see you as they are. When you are loved so much, so completely there is no room for guilt. Audrey would never have wanted you to beat yourself up thinking you killed her. It doesn't make they grief easier to bear. I guess nothing but time can do that, not that I know since I'm still waiting for it to get better myself. I hope you find some peace.

Alison (Tatem's Mama)