I Miss My Tabby

This was actually written at midnight about 20 hours ago, but is as true now as it was then.

12:05 am

Yesterday was the day that I had dreaded for so long, cried about in anticipation for so long. The first pet loss I have ever suffered. Five hours and 10 minutes ago my cat Tabby passed away. He was just over 14.5 years old. Unlike my other cat and my dog, I saw Tabby come into the world. He was strong with excellent cat instincts and I was so sure that he would out-live the other two. He was my baby, with baby-ish qualities and baby-ish sounds, and sought attention and affection with a stubbornness that bordered on annoying.

How I loved him. I thought that after my other beloved pets passed, I would sit at my desk and pet him well into his crotchety old age. 14 years hardly seems fair.

He suffered from intestinal cancer earlier this year and it has been 5 months of pills and syringe feedings and tests. He got a little better but has since gotten worse. He developed acute kidney failure and crashed over the past few weeks. We tried various antibiotics while keeping him on painkillers but he kept getting worse and worse. By the last few days, he could barely walk – he was so wobbly. He hasn’t gotten decent rest in a couple of weeks – he spent a lot of time staring into nowhere but not getting much sleep. In the last few days he had gotten so bad that he did not even have the energy to drink water, though he clearly wanted it. I had to syringe it into his mouth. So I had to make THE decision, and it kills me still.

I don't know if I made it too early or too late. It felt like time in my heart but I wish that Tabby could tell me it was the right time, that it was okay. Now I am only left with my grief.

Guilt: What if I had noticed the changes faster and realized something else was up? What if I could have fixed him if I kept fighting and not given up?

Depression: I miss him so much and I wish with all my heart that I had more time with him. I wish I had spent more time with him when he was well and cherished that time more. I wish I had been less preoccupied with my own life and focused on him more.

Denial: I have already looked under my bed a few times now in hopes of seeing him since I have returned. I looked into his eyes as he passed away, and yet I still hope. I think to myself, what if the injection did not kill him and he wakes up alone in the vet’s office or when he is being cremated? What if I am not there to protect him and keep him safe? I try and talk myself out of that fear – I was there for almost 10 minutes after he passed and looked for breathing, for a heartbeat. He lost control of his bowels and pooped a little as he died. Surely these are all signs, and yet I still think what if?

Anger: I hate the disease that killed him, whatever it was. I hate myself for not being able to stop it. I don’t hate him. I could not. He did his best and it was not his fault he could not keep up his spirits at the end.

Bargaining: What I would give for a few minutes with the old Tabby, before he was sick. I miss him so much. I begged God to make him better and He did not – I don’t know how to feel about that because it wasn't really God's fault and I'm not even sure He exists. I would give anything to go back a few hours and kiss Tabby one more time, pet him one more time, nuzzle him one more time.

The one stage I haven’t seemed to hit yet is acceptance. Granted it has been less than 6 hours. But I miss him so much. It’s hard to imagine a time when I will ever be okay with it. One day, when I have reached the acceptance stage and my other pets have passed, I will adopt a cat that maybe no one really wants and does not have much of a chance. He/she will be older, maybe with a disease like FIV that requires more care, but still needs love as much as any other creature. And I will love him/her in honour of Tabby. I will protect them and care for them and make them happy and safe in honour of Tabby. I will pass on the wonderful love that I hold for Tabby, his legacy for being so incredible and wonderfully irritating, and I will tell that cat about his/her wonderful big brother and they will love Tabby too, if only by proxy. Tabby deserves all the love in the world.

I miss my Tabby.