Sweet Sorrow: When Death Takes a Holiday
Photo quote de jour
The roses are blooming again. There is one old rose bush at the side of the house with a single pink rose fully in bloom. It went from bud to past bloom in a week without apology. Its petals are already curling towards death. It won’t mind leaving the ground pink. It’s a fitting metaphor for life at our home these days. My dear cat Coco is getting ready for kitty heaven, the Rainbow Bridge or departing the mortal coil. Whatever you wish to call it, she's dying.
It was supposed to happen at 10:30 this morning. We thought we had everything planned. Appointment with our vet. Check. Laundered the piss-wet linen again. Check. Sub Q Hydratation. Check. Found a suitable burial spot in the garden. Check. A simple consecrated pine box with esoteric symbols. Check. Ground too rooty to dig. New location by the barn found. Check. New respect for gravediggers. Check. Made a beautiful stone grave marker. Check. Wrote the wrong date. Oops. Found two beautiful rare feathers as an offering. We danced on the razor’s edge wondering if we'd done too little or too much preparation.
Yesterday, the misty rain echoed our misty eyes. The grieving had begun in earnest. But wait: is this what Coco wanted? I spent the rest of the afternoon going on a shamanic journey with Coco to find out. We listened to the drumbeat mirroring the heartbeat of the earth and her eternal wisdom. Merlin, Coco’s brother joined us. It was the first time in awhile since the three of us nestled and communed together in bed. My tears dried. I asked Coco if she wanted the vet to come in the morning. She looked me straight in the eye and nodded no. She then proceeded to eat, drink, respond and even walk to the kitty litter for more gusto than in weeks. We canceled the vet appointment. The vigil had begun. Coco gave me fifteen years of joy. The least I could do was let her call the shots for her final days.
A dear friend called last night and told me about a couple she knew with a cat. The high-powered couple had left their very sick cat at home. Alone. They had important business meetings. Aren’t they always? They came home to a dead cat. It will not be business as usual this week for me. I may post updates but until Coco decides to leave, I will be her handmaiden.
She sipped water out of a cup beside my bed several times last night. Merlin, who had been scarce, is now by her side night and day. She enjoyed a light brushing, a fresh catnip leaf and a nap outside in the sun-warmed garden. She is my teacher now and I am her willing student. The tears are close to the surface, but I choose to celebrate her last days. There will be plenty of time for grieving. I can only hope it’s what she would have wanted. I’m grateful that death took a brief holiday and I’m eternally grateful for the outpouring of support. Huge thanks to all of you!
Coco resting comfortably yesterday on her favorite heating pad.
Categories: Nature, Westchester County, Photography, Spirituality
Tags: pet grieving death takes a holiday september roses sweet sorrow when death takes a holiday sweet sorrow-cats
I am so glad to hear you are spending some quality time with Coco and Merlin. Her eyes will tell you when it is time. I had an older cat, almost 20, that I was going to put to sleep a bunch of times and she would wake up and start eating etc. She lasted a long time. One day her eyes looked at me and just told me that she was really tired and was ready to go.
You will know when it is time. The fluids etc are probably helping her a lot.
Lots of hugs to you and Coco, Merlin too. Too bad we can hug Dom.
Reply to this
Thanks Marg. Yes, the eyes! She's not making much eye contact but when she does it's deep. I'll be on the alert.
Reply to this
Layla, so sorry to hear about this sad occasion. My thoughts are with you.
-Anne Marie
Reply to this
A brief holiday is more time to emotionally prepare. As I think I have mentioned, I wanted to be with Emma when she... and it really pretty much happened that way. She was 20, sleeping most of the time. I went to the laundry room and changed the laundry. In those few seconds, she crawled out from her cubby in the basement(away from infant and toddler), and breathed her last right in front where I would see her. She was waiting for me.
I say this because Coco very much appreciates you waiting for her clue.
Hugs and wishes and prayers.
Reply to this
This means so much. Thank-you!
Reply to this
I am deeply touched by you sharing this deeply personal journey with us. You and Coco are so connected, there's no doubt in my mind that you are doing the right thing by letting her do this her way. It didn't feel right to me when I read your earlier post that alluded to possibly having to make the decision for her - it just didn't seem like Coco.
She looks at peace. I wish for you that you can find some peace, too, as you journey through this final stage with her, and that you can be there with her as she transitions. This is a precious time - painful as it is, it is also a time of deep connection. It is love in its ultimate form.
Reply to this
Thank-you, that's absolutely it. "Love in it's ultimate form."
Reply to this
Layla-I'm sure Coco feels and appreciates your profound love for her as you allow her to take her final journey in freedom and with the utmost dignity.
Reply to this
Marty, dignity is tantamount. Thanks!
Reply to this
Am glad you waited to allow more quality time shared. Purrs and hugs.
So far I've never put any of my cats to sleep.
Reply to this
Sweet warm Coco! Maybe she knows YOU are not ready to let go and is making an effort to hang on until you are ready. She still has lessons to teach. Hugz, pc
Reply to this