Goodbye To Joe And Steve Options

[CritzyJ]

I'm so glad to have found this website and the opportunity to grieve along side others. Two days ago, I said goodbye to my two cats, Steve and Joe. Steve was 15 years old and had been diagnosed with kidney failure in April. Despite all our efforts with food, medication, and sub-Q fluids, his systems continued to shut down and his health was failing. Joe was 20 years old and had been diagnosed in June with a large cancerous mass in his chest that was pushing on his trachea, making it hard for him to breathe. My husband and I decided that we didn't want to drag out their lives to the point of extreme suffering and wanted to let them go when they were still in moderate, but declining health. Even still, the decision was agonizing. I wanted them to tell me when they were ready and though their bodies were telling me, they themselves were not. They still socialized and wanted to eat, so I just wasn't sure how to make the decision. Then on Wednesday, they both told me they were ready. It was clear that the time had come, so I let them go.

I thought the letting go part was going to be the hardest, but now two days later, I realize that the real pain comes in the unfolding of memories and the absence of them which seems to scream it's presence throughout the house. My heart is absolutely broken. Yesterday I ordered some garden stones engraved with their names and four little paw print stones to put in the flower garden where they loved to sleep. When I clicked to confirm the order, it was like being punched in the chest. So final.

As I look through photo albums of the last 20 years, I find pictures of them sprinkled throughout the memories of our marriage and it occurred to me that that sprinkling was like they really were in our lives. Cats are kind of elusive and do their own thing and their presence is sprinkled throughout each day, each week, each passing year. In their older years, they were more home bodies and hung out with us and the dogs. Last night I cried so hard I could barely breathe and while I know the pain will eventually lessen, it's hard to believe it ever could. A part of me almost doesn't want it to lesson as that signifies a greater depth of letting go and I never want to let go.

So, I'm rambling and I'm going to stop now, but it feels good just to say it. Thank you for listening.

Jennifer

[CritzyJ]

I title this post "Open Doors."

I've lived with cats for almost my whole life. Over the years I learned never to completely close closet doors or pantry doors. You never know when you're going to unknowingly close a cat inside. When I married my husband 17 years ago, he would say, "Why do you always leave doors cracked open? Can't you just shut the pantry door?" My response? Of course not. There might be a cat inside. Then he's say, "there's no cat in there." "Did you check behind everything? Because you never know," I'd say.

Since saying goodbye to Joe and Steve a week ago today, I've had an interesting "relationship" with doors. Sometimes I close them just to remind myself they're gone and to get myself to accept this reality. But sometimes, on purpose, I leave them cracked open. Just to remember them. Just in case their little spirits want to sneak into a closet and then come out again.

Boy, I miss them. I cry everyday. I can hardly focus on anything else, but them and the sadness my dogs feel without them. They were old and had to die of something at some point, but it sure doesn't make it any easier.

CritzyJ