Poe the Devon Rex came into our lives only a few weeks ago, but I fell in love with him the moment we met and it felt like he'd always been there. He was scrawny and mostly bald, with the most enormous yellow eyes I've ever seen on a cat. We knew he wasn't well but that was okay because we thought whatever was wrong with him could be managed, and we would have at least a couple of years with him.
This morning, exactly 5 weeks after bringing him home, we said goodbye. The fluid was building up around his heart faster than his medication could drain it away, and I couldn't bear to see him in distress. He passed away in my arms, within a couple of heartbeats of the vet giving him his last injection.
Of all the regrets I have, it's that we didn't meet earlier in his life, when he was well. Most of his time here was spent sleeping, usually with a blanket tucked in around him by me or one of the children. We never got to see who he really was, though sometimes there were hints. More than once I woke up in the middle of the night with him chewing on my fingers because I was sleeping instead of stroking him. He loved his food, and if I was late with a meal he would come to the door of the bedroom where he lived (by his own choice) and tell me with one loud miaow that the service wasn't up to scratch. He was always waiting for me to come to bed, and as soon as I got in he would be there, usually in the most uncomfortable position for me and breathing into my mouth because his head was on my shoulder. On the really good days, which were rare, he would walk outside with me for a few minutes, exploring the garden and rolling in the sun . He always had a purr ready, and he loved everyone. He didn't deserve this.
We left him with the vet, but the children and I planted a white African violet for him in our garden. They're taking it better than I am. We will have a young oriental boy coming to join us next week, someone else to love and maybe fill some of the hole in our lives. It won't be the same though.
This morning, exactly 5 weeks after bringing him home, we said goodbye. The fluid was building up around his heart faster than his medication could drain it away, and I couldn't bear to see him in distress. He passed away in my arms, within a couple of heartbeats of the vet giving him his last injection.
Of all the regrets I have, it's that we didn't meet earlier in his life, when he was well. Most of his time here was spent sleeping, usually with a blanket tucked in around him by me or one of the children. We never got to see who he really was, though sometimes there were hints. More than once I woke up in the middle of the night with him chewing on my fingers because I was sleeping instead of stroking him. He loved his food, and if I was late with a meal he would come to the door of the bedroom where he lived (by his own choice) and tell me with one loud miaow that the service wasn't up to scratch. He was always waiting for me to come to bed, and as soon as I got in he would be there, usually in the most uncomfortable position for me and breathing into my mouth because his head was on my shoulder. On the really good days, which were rare, he would walk outside with me for a few minutes, exploring the garden and rolling in the sun . He always had a purr ready, and he loved everyone. He didn't deserve this.
We left him with the vet, but the children and I planted a white African violet for him in our garden. They're taking it better than I am. We will have a young oriental boy coming to join us next week, someone else to love and maybe fill some of the hole in our lives. It won't be the same though.
