I've had animals around me almost as long as I can remember. With exception to purchasing two hamsters from a pet store, the closest I've *ever* come to buying a pet is paying an adoption fee at a shelter or rescue to take in an animal. I don't know if everyone reading this knows, or if it's true everywhere, but the shelters that I've gone to have all had the same "pledge" they ask potential pet owners to read and sign. It's called the "Forever Home" pledge. It goes basically like this ... "I promise that when I take you in, I will give you a forever home. I will not hurt you, I will not ignore you, I will not let you suffer. I promise that you will have my love and my care, forever." And people never really think about it, but it becomes hard at a time like now ...
Amira is sick. She's very sick. She has pneumonia, a bad kidney infection, and the vet believes she's showing signs of neurological damage that just can't be healed. She's eaten a bit of tuna since we got home a week ago, but she has lost control of her bowels multiple times, and often falls over. Sometimes, it even looks like she's having a seizure. She walks in circles when she walks at all, but most of the time she just lays on the couch, in John's spot, or on his pillow in the bedroom, trying to rest. Even Squirrel knows something is wrong - he tries to clean her and care for her. I've seen him in the kitchen with her a number of times, pushing the foodbowl to her with his nose, almost like he thinks if he just puts it close enough, she'll start eating.
Tomorrow morning, at nine am, I have an appointment with the vet. And from what they've already said, I have to make a decision - whether I will keep this cat suffering, or put her to sleep.
And I wish it were that simple, I do. But it's not.
Because she's not just a cat. She's Amira. She was a gift to me from friends, who thought I would love her and look after her the best when she had to move. She is the quiet bit of ragdoll fluff who only wants love and attention. She has the ability to frighten a huge man, and just lay quietly and accept the love of little children. She loves to eat spaghetti, and scrambled eggs, and sausage, and she adores - absolutely adores - when I have maraschino cherries and give her little pieces of them. It seems like all she has ever wanted in life is someone to love her, and pet her, and she will be the happiest creature ever.
Now, she hurts. She hurts all the time, they told me last. She has no dignity left to her, no quiet pride in her bearing. She is simply an invalid, laying, waiting to pass on.
But I'm terrified that I can't do it. That they will come to me, and tell me, and I will be too weak. I don't want her to stay alive for her - she would, I think, at this point be happy to pass on, and go to her well-earned rest. No, I want her to stay alive for me. Because somehow, even though I've only had her a year, she is part of my life, now. She is that quiet purr beside me in bed, that questing head seeking a scratch behind the ears, that sweet kitten who finds her way everywhere by meowing and waiting for her people to talk back to her.
Even if I can let her go, which I'm not sure I can, I am scared of what will happen if they put her down. They will want me there. I know they will. I used to dream of being a veterinarian, until I learned they had to put animals down. And I couldn't do that. But I know they want their owners there, so they can comfort them as they pass on. And I can't help it, I really can't...
I know there will be pain for her, and then a numbing, a sleeping sensation. But she will simply know I have taken her once again to a place where she is hurt, and she will go to sleep confused, and wondering why I take her where she is hurt, and why I am crying.
There is almost no question. I know what will need to be done. It breaks my heart, I'm sitting here crying as I type this because I know no other way to say what I am saying except to write it. I hurt in every fiber of my being, I dread tomorrow, there is a tiny part of me that wants to run away, right here, right now, to anywhere, so I don't have to face her and do this to her. I feel like I have failed her, failed in my promises to her, and I am responsible for this. But there is only really one option left right now for her ...
Because when I promised to give her a forever home, I promised to love her, and care for her. Not for my sake, but for her own. I promised to never let her suffer.
I never promised I wouldn't suffer for her.
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