Our lovely 18 year old cat, Katy left us yesterday morning.
After finding out a year ago she had thyroid problems, she steadilly declined and took a turn for the worst about 3 weeks ago - when she was having breathing difficulties and an xray showed she had cancer in her lungs. Despite the vets advice to PTS at that stage, she was still purring, eating, drinking and going to the loo - so we refused and took her home. We made her comfortable and agreed that as soon as the breathing problem came back (it had eased) or behaviour changed (no purring, listless etc) we'd do the deed.
My wife had been sleeping in Katy's room for about the last week and during the early hours of Tuesday morning, Katy took herself off into a corner and under a chair. She clearly wasn't comfortable anymore and was struggling going to the loo. Breathing had worsened, but it was a wheeze - rather than her fighting for breath. We discussed it and agreed the time was right and I'd take her to the Vets yesterday morning.
My wife got Katy from the RSPCA (Radcliffe on Trent) in 1989, she was probably 8 months old. (she also got Poppy at the same time who was around 2-3yrs old. we lost poppy almost 2 years ago). Katy was all black and has always been very very gorgeous (owner bias possibly!). Katy wasn't necessarilly a cuddly cat - never really liked being picked up. But she was certainly sensitve to my wife's moods and would bring her (dead mouse/bird) gifts when she'd been down and fed up over the years. They've been through alot together.
When I moved in about 4.5 years ago, Katy took and instant dislike to me and my dog (rescue dog, Archie). I liked having cats around (and from that point onwards Archie became obsessed with them, not in an aggressive way...he just seemed to want to herd them), but if Katy wanted to play hard to get, that was fine by me.
Over the last couple of years, I became used to her and her to me and we became buddies. Last Feb (after the vets 'skillfully' almost killed her) she became very close to me...she was kept in at the vets for 2 nights and I went in each day to take her nice food and spend some time with her and you know what, I think that helped and that she remembers me doing it. We got another year+ out of her and it was a good quality year too.
And in the last month or so, I think you become even closer to your animals as they age and you're caring more intensively for them. In Katy's case it was trying various things to make her eat and sitting chatting with her.
And so to yesterday morning. I picked her up and gave her a (gentle) hug and a squeeze and put her in her basket and put her on the passenger seat in the car. It felt wrong having the radio on, and I drove in silence, reaching over to stroke Katy through the door of the basket.
I hate the 'PTS' thing. I really, really hate it. I know it was the right thing to do. But I was gutted. It was absolutely heartwrenching. I got to the vets first thing and asked if they could fit us in, before the place got busy. They said yes and I went back to the car to get Katy (in her wicker basket) and I just started blubbing all over (which to be honest must be hard for the vets, a 6'2", 34 year old bloke sobbing all over his cat).
Of course I was sad, because I was going to miss Katy (and really sad for my wife, who is in bits to be honest) - but I was sad for Katy. She'd had a great life and I just wished she could have carried on. With hindsight (and knowing now and in later yeears about the thyroid thing, the cancer and her little heart murmer) it's incredible she went on as long as she did. Despite her little size, she'd always been a fighter and this is what carried her through.
It was the same vet who put Poppy to sleep, and so knew what was like (I was gutted with Poppy too) and knows what my animals mean to me. I have to say she was brilliant. I stayed with Katy all the way through. Historically Katy hated the vets and injections (and has lacerated the vets and nurses on many occasions) and we had talked about them coming to home to do the PTS for us. But, I knew Katy was ready. I stroked her head and chatted to her (despite her going deaf a year ago...I'm mad?) a vet nurse held her (in case of 'katy claw attack') and the vet shaved a little patch on her leg and in went the injection - and Katy didn't bat an eyelid...so I am hoping that was the sign she was ready to go without a fight, it was her time.
And that was it. She had left us before the vet had finished injecting all the fluid in.
Despite the weeks of knowing it was going to happen and preparing yourself, it's so sudden. Once minute she's there, the next she's gone.
We burried her in the top corner of the garden (with Poppy and Lady) yesterday evening. She's got some new flowers and the whole area is covered in snowdrops during the early part of the year. There's a view of the whole back of the garden...when we'd finished the sun came out and a figther plane went over ("a flyby for Katy" we joked).
As hard as it is (and I cannot stress enough how much I hate doing the PTS thing), the fact they (more often than not) don't outlive us, is NOT a reason to not have animals. The pleasure we get from them is endless and I take comfort in the fact that Katy had a wonderful long life and was spoiled rotten and when the time came, I believe she was ready.
I feel empty now (unfortunately, although we're not supposed to have favourties, we do and Katy was my wife's fave and she's taking it quite badly, to be honest I think she's been grieving for a month in anticipation). The house feels strange. With Katy not being around. It feels strange, not having to worry about her anymore. She's at peace now and that's what matters.
And I am glad the other pets are there (3 dogs and Evil 'kitten' Lily) for us.