The house is too quiet. Kanoe and Toulouse are their usual sweet selves, but Captain's absence is deafening.
On Sunday the vet came to our home. Captain was lying on my lap as he passed into the ever after.
It was too quick. Too sudden. On Saturday we'd tried to give him some raw tuna (actual raw, not canned, it was a favorite of his) and he brought it back up along with dark, mucousy bile.
Rather than have him become utterly listless and sick-feeling, we made the decision to make it quick and (hopefully) painless. For me, it was too quick. I didn't want him to go through more pain, but I feel like we summoned the angel of death too soon. And he went so quickly... not a bad thing for him, but for me... it's hard to deal with.
It's been a week since we took him to the vet and got the diagnosis. I knew things would be quick... I wasn't expecting them to be this fast. And I miss him so terribly much.
Captain showed up on my family's property when I was 12... no friends, allergic to cats, and desperately needing someone or something to be a special confidant. My sophomore year of high school, he was struck by a car, dislocating one hip and breaking the other. He had surgery and pulled through although he always had a slight limp. When I went to college, he was always waiting for me when I came home. My junior year I moved into a little rental with my future husband - my only stipulation for moving was that it had to be a place where I could have cats. I had an internship out of state that summer, but the day after I got home I woke up early and drove back to my parent's house to get him. He hid under the seat of my geo for the whole two hour trip it took to get home. Later he moved to yet another college town with me, and 9 months later, back to Missoula. The next year we had the first cancer diagnosis, and ironically, that was the year he learned to love riding in the car... on my lap, sitting up, my arms around him, staring quizzically out the window. After surgery he recovered and seemed 5 years younger. We'd finally bought a house and he could be outside in the yard ... which he enjoyed this summer and last. This last week he spent most of his time in the garden, lying in the johnny jump-ups.
For 15 years he was the answer to my prayers, my star voyager, my super-intelligent cat that always seemed to know more than anyone else and to be slightly disdainful that they didn't "get it."
There's this huge hole in my heart... I miss him so much.
On Sunday the vet came to our home. Captain was lying on my lap as he passed into the ever after.
It was too quick. Too sudden. On Saturday we'd tried to give him some raw tuna (actual raw, not canned, it was a favorite of his) and he brought it back up along with dark, mucousy bile.
Rather than have him become utterly listless and sick-feeling, we made the decision to make it quick and (hopefully) painless. For me, it was too quick. I didn't want him to go through more pain, but I feel like we summoned the angel of death too soon. And he went so quickly... not a bad thing for him, but for me... it's hard to deal with.
It's been a week since we took him to the vet and got the diagnosis. I knew things would be quick... I wasn't expecting them to be this fast. And I miss him so terribly much.
Captain showed up on my family's property when I was 12... no friends, allergic to cats, and desperately needing someone or something to be a special confidant. My sophomore year of high school, he was struck by a car, dislocating one hip and breaking the other. He had surgery and pulled through although he always had a slight limp. When I went to college, he was always waiting for me when I came home. My junior year I moved into a little rental with my future husband - my only stipulation for moving was that it had to be a place where I could have cats. I had an internship out of state that summer, but the day after I got home I woke up early and drove back to my parent's house to get him. He hid under the seat of my geo for the whole two hour trip it took to get home. Later he moved to yet another college town with me, and 9 months later, back to Missoula. The next year we had the first cancer diagnosis, and ironically, that was the year he learned to love riding in the car... on my lap, sitting up, my arms around him, staring quizzically out the window. After surgery he recovered and seemed 5 years younger. We'd finally bought a house and he could be outside in the yard ... which he enjoyed this summer and last. This last week he spent most of his time in the garden, lying in the johnny jump-ups.
For 15 years he was the answer to my prayers, my star voyager, my super-intelligent cat that always seemed to know more than anyone else and to be slightly disdainful that they didn't "get it."
There's this huge hole in my heart... I miss him so much.
