Three Weeks Without My Kitty Options

[jaradtke]

I got Galen just before moving into my first apartment. He was five weeks old and fit in the palm of my hand. That was over 18 years ago and now my home is empty for the first time. I let him go three weeks ago, though I can barely see how that much time has passed. I can’t imagine how 18 years could have gone by any more either.

I’ve been through euthanasia before. I got my second cat Ariel when Galen was a year old. I lost her to kidney disease over three years ago when daily hydration treatment was no longer enough to keep her comfortable. I wasn’t as close to Ariel – she wasn’t a lap cat, she enjoyed being petted but wouldn’t sit still for it, she pretty much just did her thing on her own.

Galen was my baby though – frequently in my lap and typically in the bed overnight. I was devastated when he was diagnosed with diabetes seven years ago. I’m deathly terrified of needles (and still am) but somehow got my mind around what it was up to me to do for my cat. That was about 5,000 injections ago. I’d have gladly done another 5,000 if it would have helped but the last year was one of steady decline as other health issues piled up with old age – hyperthyroidism, arthritis, deafness, dehydration, weight loss.

By mid summer it was clear we weren’t going to be able to turn things around and keep him going much longer. Picking a point at which to let go seemed so arbitrary. It’s not as though either of my cats was fatally hurt in an accident or something. I had to just pick what seemed like an acceptable level of health and comfort for an animal predisposed to hide pain in the first place. Both times it made it harder to feel like I wasn’t just giving up when another week or month probably wouldn’t make much difference. Steady decline situations also allowed for a painful stretch of anticipatory grief.

I can recall Galen’s last day all too clearly though I don’t know how I got through it, or the weeks leading up to it for that matter. I guess it was sheer numbness and shock. We had a mobile vet come to our home for the procedure. Galen was always violently anxious when taken from his territory and handled by strangers. I didn’t like the idea of his last hour or more being spent in a panic. He still didn’t like the stranger on his turf but it was much better than a trip to the vet would have been. He died with his little head in my lap.

The sting has started to lessen. I can sometimes get through a day without crying myself to sleep or bursting into tears because I think I see him or expect to see him in one of his normal places. The depression is setting in hard though. I swing between feeling apathetic and hypersensitive to everything around me. I read a book on pet loss to get some perspective. I changed some things around the house and in my routine so that life would feel different for some reason other than because my kitty is gone. I make a point to do things I’ve always enjoyed – entertainment, meals, hobbies and the like. That’s only good for about as long as the event lasts though. Then I feel like I’m just distracting myself.

I’m not sure who I am right now either. My whole adult life I’ve been ‘a pet owner’. For seven years everyone has known me as ‘the guy whose personal life revolves around medicating his sick cats on schedule’. I’m finding that so many of my first thoughts were for my pets. My concern for a fire at home was who would get my cats out. If I was hurt or hospitalized who would take care of them. When I lock the door leaving home it was to secure my babies. Now I’m just preventing theft. I suppose it’s necessary but it doesn’t seem very meaningful.

Guilt isn’t plaguing me at least. I remember being more upset than I expected about Ariel three years ago and in retrospect there was some guilt there. She was my kitty and I love her and miss her still today, but I knew I wasn’t quite as close to her and wondered if I had tried as hard with her as I was with Galen. I know I did my best for a long time with Galen though and haven’t been playing the ‘what if?’ game. If anything I’m afraid I may have waited too long and let him decline too far. I knew I was scared at the idea of losing him, but I did what I thought was right and haven’t dwelled on how it happened.

The obvious thought is to get another cat or two. I’ve known for a long time I wouldn’t be able to do that right away, not until I’m ready to accept a new personality and new relationship for whatever they are going to be. I’ve lost the only constant companion of my adult life, my only dependent, my best friend, confidant, and readiest source of emotional support. Trying to replace that when the loss and grief are so fresh wouldn’t be fair to me or another animal.

As willing as I was to provide all the medical care I did for seven years, I also have to recognize that it took a toll on me. It’s unlikely that a new healthy kitten would require home hospice care soon but it’s been a long time and I think I need to let my perception of cat care sort of recover first. I know I also felt a closer bond to both my cats after they became ill, required more attention from me, and needed and depended on me that much more. In the back of my mind is the fear that I won’t be able to be as close as that to a healthy pet. I don’t think it will be a real concern when the time actually comes but it is a nagging thought now.

Well, thanks for listening if you made it this far. It’s nice to have gotten some of that out.

Loving and missing my Galen cat,
John