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citrakayah
The cat died recently. Well, one of the cats, the orange one. He was old, I forget how old exactly, but still old. But he was my favorite cat. I still remember him curling up around/under my head when I was younger like he was a pillow, a great big fluffy orange pillow.
Lately he hadn't been doing so well. He'd lost weight and all. But even when he fell into what my mother says was probably a coma, even when his gums were swollen and he was completely unresponsive and having what I'm pretty sure were convulsions, he didn't die. He lingered for days. I tried to watch over him, but much as I hate myself for it, I couldn't be with him always, I just wasn't emotionally capable of it. Which I should be, given that I'm 20, dammit.
So we had someone kill him. The nice way to put it is that we had him "put to sleep," but I prefer to be frank and brutally honest.
So I say that we killed him. Because we did.
And even if I don't feel agony right now over that decision, even if it's half a week later and what-not, even--or maybe especially--if I'm relatively unemotional... I'm not sure I can make my peace with that.
Not sure if I should.
Lately he hadn't been doing so well. He'd lost weight and all. But even when he fell into what my mother says was probably a coma, even when his gums were swollen and he was completely unresponsive and having what I'm pretty sure were convulsions, he didn't die. He lingered for days. I tried to watch over him, but much as I hate myself for it, I couldn't be with him always, I just wasn't emotionally capable of it. Which I should be, given that I'm 20, dammit.
So we had someone kill him. The nice way to put it is that we had him "put to sleep," but I prefer to be frank and brutally honest.
So I say that we killed him. Because we did.
And even if I don't feel agony right now over that decision, even if it's half a week later and what-not, even--or maybe especially--if I'm relatively unemotional... I'm not sure I can make my peace with that.
Not sure if I should.
no subject
Date: 2015-06-17 11:58 pm (UTC)One of them was emaciated for his entire short life. He woke up one day screaming and frightened, and was no longer able to move. They had him euthanized because they couldn't do anything else.
One of the outdoor cats absolutely adored me, and loved spending time with me. When I moved out of their rural house, I timidly warned my mother of origin that packs of wild dogs came around there at night, and I'd had to scare them off by yelling at them. I suggested installing a baby monitor. She did not listen.
The indoor cat I considered my BFF, that I grew up with and wrote as a character into my fanfiction, finally had terminal organ failure when she was 18. We knew she had less than a day or so to live, no matter what anyone did.
I spent almost an hour leaning over to pet her under the table where they were keeping her, in an incredibly awkward position, recording video of her being happy. As soon as I stopped, which I only did because my hand hurt and I needed to get back to the place of the relative I was living with, she started crying for me. Her last memory of me was being abandoned and left to die.
I'm not sure a sapient being with functioning memory and empathy can ever make peace with these things. So much as try to develop new memories, and move on to other things.