Over the course of the last year and a half, my kitty, Dylan, has been sick. No one knows what is wrong with him, but, of course, everyone speculates and imagines they have the answer. He has been to 3 different vets and each one walks away clueless and Dylan walks away worse for wear.
A year and a half of having unwilling bulemia. He eats... he throws up. He drinks... he throws up. All the while I am sure his heart is weakened, his esophagus has to be tore up, his teeth are probably ruined permanently, he has 60% hair loss, he is down 9 lbs (yes, he was 20 lbs; He is a massive cat), and he has random open sores from licking himself almost compulsively.
All of those reasons make me say: Put him down.
Life is not meant to be lived while having to suffer constantly.
And pets don't tell us when they hurt.
He can't say "Mommy, all I want to do is eat like a normal boy." or "I just want to stop having to hurt every day."
At first I was distraught having to go through endless rolls of paper towel and cleaning up piles of bile and hair. Now it is second nature. He gives the meow and I am there in a flash. Thankfully I have almost all hard floors in my house and he manages to puke in pretty convenient places. But still my heart is heavy for my kitty boy who has been my little buddy from the first day.
His appointment to be put down was for this past Saturday. He has had an amazing week, too. One puke on Wednesday and nothing since. Almost as if he knew it was the end of his life was coming this weekend. Saturday came and went. I cancelled his appointment because a large part of me couldn't put down my little kitty boy who was snuggled up on my lap for the better part of 3 hours the night before when I couldn't sleep over the thought of ending his short life. When I called the shelter, the little old lady who answered wept with me as I told her I didn't know what to do. I told her I didn't know how to make the decision for him and that I didn't know if it was even the right decision at the end of the day. Especially when he was having a great week. A week of normalcy.
|Dylan (left) and Lucy - Nov 2013|
Maybe selfishly I just need more time to come to terms with ending the life of my little friend. My companion. My buddy. The guy who when I got him had no whiskers because he burned them all off on a candle. The guy who would sit on my lap no matter where I was (yes, even tried to on the toilet). The kitty boy who has been a part of my family longer than any actual human guy ever has and maybe ever will.
I know, at the end of the day, that Dylan's life will be cut short and that I will have to make the long drive to the shelter to put him down, but I am not ready right now. So many things happen in life and they always seem to happen at the same time - and I am not ready to lose him yet. And as tears now well up in my eyes I will go snuggle up with him on the couch now, because I can.
Because he is still here... for now.