Sadness and Desperation (Part One)

Note: Rather than trying to combine my whole weekend into one post, I'm breaking it up into two parts. This gives people the chance to skip the sad parts and non-knitting related post.

I had an absolutely terrible Friday. We had to have our precious old man cat, Leon, put to sleep. He was somewhere above the age of 14 and on the decline. We knew it would be happening sooner rather than later, but I still wasn't prepared.

We had hoped that he would pass peacefully at home, but when we woke up Friday, he had completely lost control of his bowels and was having trouble breathing. I couldn't let him suffer, so we made the decision to take him to the vet and have him euthanized.

John, that wonderful, wonderful man, did not make me go. He bravely went with just my step-dad. They stayed in the room with Leon as he passed and all in all, said it was as painless and peaceful as possible.

For those of you who think that I am a coward for not going, I still have nightmares from when I went with my mom to have our lab put down. And that was nearly a decade ago. It's bad enough that I can only currently remember Leon as the absolute wreck he was Friday morning. Watching him die would have been even worse.

But before they took him, I warmed his blanket in the dryer so he wouldn't be cold on the trip. I swaddled him in it and held him close to me, whispering about how much I loved him, how great of a cat he was, and how much I was going to miss him.

We had wanted to get him cremated, but $150 wasn't something we could afford on top of the vet cost. We had no where at our home to bury him and were at a loss of what to do. My grandma then offered that we could bury him at her house under the lilac tree.

I thought it was perfect. My grandparent's house has always been one of my safe places. It's only three streets over from our house. We could go visit him whenever we needed to. I also loved the thought that as he decomposes, he'll nourish the tree. Every spring, we'll be able to see him in those beautiful purple blooms.

I cried and cried and cried while they were gone. I would stop for a bit, think I was okay, then think about him and start all over again.

Leon had lived with us most of his life. He went through 6 moves, most of those with John and I, and always settled in so nicely. He had the loudest purr of any cat I've ever met. In his older age, he earned the nickname of grumpy old man cat. If one of the other cats or dogs annoyed him, he would meow and then rapidly smack them on top of the head with his paw.

He had always been a fat cat. We loved how his stomach swayed when he ran off anywhere. It was such a funny way of running, too. I don't even know how to describe it.

Once John got home, we took a shower, trying anything to relax a bit.

It's funny, but I realize that John and I's relationship has always revolved around showers. Whenever we needed to talk about something emotionally heavy, it's when one of us is in the shower. When we lived with my family, it was a way to get away from everyone else and just have a couple of minutes to ourselves to talk. Whenever one of us is sick, the other insists on a shower, complete with warmed towels and company to make sure they don't slip and fall.

Whenever we lose someone, we always take a shower together.

It feels like we are trying to wash away the hurt and sadness.

So, we took our shower, held each other and cried.

When we were done, the sadness was still there, but it didn't hurt quite so much.

Goodbye, my faithful friend, my purring companion, my grumpy old man, my Bubbers.