I didn't want to hijack Jimmy's post "how could you?" in any way, but in reading his sad story, it sooooo reminded me of when we had to put our first cat, Cookie, to sleep because she was very ill, at only 4 years old. Although our reason for doing so was quite different, the feelings came flooding back when reading Jimmy's story.
Our daughter, then 11, wrote of her experiences during that most difficult time.
It still moves me to tears, especially given that these are the words of a child.
We now have 3 wonderful kitties thanks to the love that Cookie shared with us, and we still think of her and thank her for being our first cat family member. :kitty:
Hope you don't mind if I share Amy's story with you all.
The Empty Cookie Jar
It was a dreadful November day when my brother, Brian, left to go back to college from the Thanksgiving Break. My bird, Sky, had just died the night before and the whole family was upset. I was worried about my cat, Cookie, for she loved Sky. She would sit on top of Sky's cage and sleep there for hours, while Sky chirped her to sleep. Cookie wasn't moving around much, and with Brian at college and Sky dead, I was worried about her. My mom said that she was just depressed, but she was more than just depressed.
At the end of the month, Cookie hadn't improved. She wouldn't eat or go to the litter box. She would move only two or three times a day. I started to get even more worried and everyone sensed that. My dad, my mom, and I went to the vet the next Sunday. He said that she was severely anemic and wasn"t making any red blood cells. He told us that in order to find the problem, he would need to see her Monday to run some tests.
Monday morning, before school, my mom and I took Cookie back to the vet. The nurse who was there took Cookie out of her carrier. The nurse said, "What a beautiful cat!" It hit me then that I might lose that beautiful cat. I started to cry. My mom held me tight as we walked out to the car. I bravely went to school, not sure how I could survive.
The next day was tough, but I spent all my spare time with Cookie, making the best out of it, making sure she was as happy as she could get. This couldn't be the same cat that was here ten days ago, I kept thinking, she'll be better tomorrow. Tomorrow only brought bad news, though.
It was Wednesday, and I had to get up early for band. I said good-bye to Cookie and was about to leave when the phone rang. It was the vet. I stopped breathing. I prayed for good news. My mom got off the phone. "What did he say?" I asked my mom over and over. She finally answered.
"The vet said he had been trying to call all day yesterday but couldn't get ahold of us. Cookie has Bone Marrow Cancer and could die any time today or to the end of this week," my mom said as she burst into tears. I hugged her tight. I stayed home from band, but I felt I had to go to school.
When I came home my parents were outside waiting for me. My mom was not happy, I could tell. My dad was digging a hole by the big pine
tree next to the driveway. I felt as if I missed something important. "What"s going on here?" I asked impatiently. It took a while for a response. My mom beckoned me to sit on her lap. I walked over to my mom, tripping over everything on the driveway as I went along.
"Cookie is in so much pain," my mom started.
"Yes, I know," I said.
"We thought it would be best if we……………" My mom couldn't finish her sentence, but I understood what she was saying. We were going to put Cookie, my dear Cookie, to sleep.
"No!" I screamed as I marched inside. On the way, I saw a little wooden box to be used as Cookie's coffin. I cried there and finally went inside. I stayed with her all afternoon. I read her the books I read to her the first day we brought her home. I held her until it was time to put her in her carrier. This was her last time alive at home. I thought I had flooded the house with my tears.
Then we had to go to the vet. We gave Cookie her favorite toy, her teddy bear. I rubbed her neck and throat, and scratched her ears. The vet injected the needle in her leg and said she was gone. I wept until I thought I had used all my tears, but some how my heart found more. There she was, lifeless. The vet said to me, " Don"t let anyone say that you are not allowed to cry. It"s normal. It's okay to cry." Now I can say that"s the truth.
I cried for a long time. Losing Cookie was worse than anything that ever happened to me. I felt like my world had collapsed on me. I told myself to remember the good times I had with Cookie, like the time she got her head stuck in the tissue box. She was a great teacher to me. Now I know that when I walk by a store and a little black and white kitty meows at me, I will know that Cookie is there, refilling the Cookie jar in my heart with her presence.
