Cat Saturday -- End of an Era
Photo quote de jour
Edited for Pet Memorial Day 9/11/11.
I believe in omens. I also believe the many pets in my life have entered and exited at pivotal junctures in my life. Two weeks ago today I broke my baby toe. I took it as painful wake-up call and (being the intuitive that I am) knew that pain of a different sort loomed.
If you are a regular visitor here, you've heard that my dear Coco died this past Tuesday.The memorial photo was posted on Wednesday. So much has transpired in the past week, on every level, I feel compelled to write down as much as I can before the nuances fade. Today's post, long as it is, is a mere "just the facts" version.
Last week at Cat Saturday it was all about waiting, nursing, hoping and praying, but ultimately surrendering. You can only keep death at bay for so long. The question on my mind 24/7 was: When? When is the right time to end a pet's life humanely? On Sunday, it looked grim. Coco ate no more than a morsel, drank no water, peed in bed, unable to walk, even to a kitty litter in the bedroom. We emailed the vet who agreed to come on Monday to perform the at home euthanasia. Then, she rallied as palliative care patients often do. The last hurrah. We canceled the appointment and chewed our nails. She managed miraculously to climb to the guestroom on the third floor and use the kitty litter!
Her every wish became our pleasure. On Monday, she napped in the warm sun next to the herb garden. She happily lapped water, ate a fresh catnip leaves and enjoyed (as she always did) a brushing. The one thing she refused to do was pose. The rare time she opened her eyes, she'd move her head, and after a few blurry attempts, I respected her wishes. I was thrilled to accidentally get all three cats in one shot, one last time ( Domino in the distance).
Marg, one of my favorite cat blogger friends said, "Look in the eyes. She'll tell you when it's time to go." Easier said than done when she rarely opened her eyes anymore. I kept looking and asking. "Are you ready to go tomorrow?" After a Shamanic journey with both Merlin and Coco nestled in my arms, she looked at me with her foggy blue eyes and nodded her head, yes. Our beyond fabulous vet, Richard Goldstein of Mobile Vet Squad agreed to visit at noon on Tuesday.
Since the original appointment was for Monday, we'd prepped everything on Sunday: the coffin, dug the grave etc. There was nothing to do but make Coco as comfortable as possible and squeeze in as much love possible and not sadness. Merlin, her devoted brother and best friend for almost sixteen years, said his final goodbye on a favorite spot on the third floor.We thought it best that Merlin not see the vet arriving or leaving. Merlin is due for a check-up soon and we didn't want any negative association.
Tuesday was a perfect late summer day, warm and sunny. I decided to take Coco outside one last time so she could feel the sun on her face and smell the grassy earth she loved so much. She basked in the sun absolutely serene and dignified as any empress. I'd prepared an makeshift altar on the picnic table and smudged her with sage and frankincense.
Since she was already so comfortable, we thought why move her? Everything unfolded with divine clockwork. The mobile clinic arrived. The vet walked over to see Coco and we agreed that it was the perfect spot. Most pets are euthanized in a cold clinic after a stressful car ride. What a relief to spare Coco (and us) that trauma. My husband went inside the clinic to take care of the paperwork. Coco kindly gave me one last look and I thanked her for fifteen wonderful years of love and friendship.
The assistant gave Coco a sedative and Dr.Goldstein, with the utmost compassion, talked about what was going to happen and what to expect. They left us alone for a few minutes while the sedative took effect and we said our final good-byes. The final shot was administered, and a few seconds later at officially 12:47 Coco exited peacefully. We cried of course, but the beauty and grace of the moment transcended the pain. Dying where one most enjoyed living is as good as it gets.
After a brief chat, Dr. G. quietly left, and we brought Merlin out to say his good-byes. I believe the opportunity for a pet to see and smell their dead companion helps with grieving process. Merlin walked straight over, sniffed her and promptly walked away. No fanfare. He just knew the furry form lying there was no longer Coco.
A simple but meaningful ceremony preceded the burial by the barn. The exact spot is where (for over a year) I've photographed the beautiful wabi sabi progression of decay of this old chair. Wabi Sabi, the Japanese aesthetic, values the beauty of impermanence and decay.
Merlin showed no interest in the burial nor visiting the grave site until months later. For almost sixteen years, it was always Merlin and Coco, Coco and Merlin. Inseparable. The Siamese twins. In more ways than I can say, it marks the end of an era.
Much to my relief, he never searched inside the house for her. I half expected him to be wailing into the night for her as he had on many nights, but no more. Domino remained conspicuously absent on all day on Tuesday. When he finally appeared in the evening, he gave me a knowing look. Since then, he's tried to play with Merlin, but Merlin is in deep mourning. He's eating well, but won't leave the darkness of the duvet unless I carry him outside twice a day. Once outside in the sunshine he perks up and we talk. He likes the sun warmed heat of the picnic table near Coco's transition spot.
On Wednesday, while we sat on the table, I asked for a sign from the beyond. A few seconds later, a bright red male cardinal appeared on a branch nearby. I asked out loud, "Are you Coco? If so, can you come a little closer?" The bird flew closer and perched on a branch about about ten feet away. I dared to ask again, "If you are Coco, can you come a little closer?" the bird instantly flew past my face, not three feet away and disappeared north of the garden. Merlin and I looked at each other and I smiled. There is life after loss.
Edited for Pet Memorial Day 9/11/11.
I believe in omens. I also believe the many pets in my life have entered and exited at pivotal junctures in my life. Two weeks ago today I broke my baby toe. I took it as painful wake-up call and (being the intuitive that I am) knew that pain of a different sort loomed.
If you are a regular visitor here, you've heard that my dear Coco died this past Tuesday.The memorial photo was posted on Wednesday. So much has transpired in the past week, on every level, I feel compelled to write down as much as I can before the nuances fade. Today's post, long as it is, is a mere "just the facts" version.
Last week at Cat Saturday it was all about waiting, nursing, hoping and praying, but ultimately surrendering. You can only keep death at bay for so long. The question on my mind 24/7 was: When? When is the right time to end a pet's life humanely? On Sunday, it looked grim. Coco ate no more than a morsel, drank no water, peed in bed, unable to walk, even to a kitty litter in the bedroom. We emailed the vet who agreed to come on Monday to perform the at home euthanasia. Then, she rallied as palliative care patients often do. The last hurrah. We canceled the appointment and chewed our nails. She managed miraculously to climb to the guestroom on the third floor and use the kitty litter!
Her every wish became our pleasure. On Monday, she napped in the warm sun next to the herb garden. She happily lapped water, ate a fresh catnip leaves and enjoyed (as she always did) a brushing. The one thing she refused to do was pose. The rare time she opened her eyes, she'd move her head, and after a few blurry attempts, I respected her wishes. I was thrilled to accidentally get all three cats in one shot, one last time ( Domino in the distance).
Marg, one of my favorite cat blogger friends said, "Look in the eyes. She'll tell you when it's time to go." Easier said than done when she rarely opened her eyes anymore. I kept looking and asking. "Are you ready to go tomorrow?" After a Shamanic journey with both Merlin and Coco nestled in my arms, she looked at me with her foggy blue eyes and nodded her head, yes. Our beyond fabulous vet, Richard Goldstein of Mobile Vet Squad agreed to visit at noon on Tuesday.
Since the original appointment was for Monday, we'd prepped everything on Sunday: the coffin, dug the grave etc. There was nothing to do but make Coco as comfortable as possible and squeeze in as much love possible and not sadness. Merlin, her devoted brother and best friend for almost sixteen years, said his final goodbye on a favorite spot on the third floor.We thought it best that Merlin not see the vet arriving or leaving. Merlin is due for a check-up soon and we didn't want any negative association.
Tuesday was a perfect late summer day, warm and sunny. I decided to take Coco outside one last time so she could feel the sun on her face and smell the grassy earth she loved so much. She basked in the sun absolutely serene and dignified as any empress. I'd prepared an makeshift altar on the picnic table and smudged her with sage and frankincense.
Since she was already so comfortable, we thought why move her? Everything unfolded with divine clockwork. The mobile clinic arrived. The vet walked over to see Coco and we agreed that it was the perfect spot. Most pets are euthanized in a cold clinic after a stressful car ride. What a relief to spare Coco (and us) that trauma. My husband went inside the clinic to take care of the paperwork. Coco kindly gave me one last look and I thanked her for fifteen wonderful years of love and friendship.
The assistant gave Coco a sedative and Dr.Goldstein, with the utmost compassion, talked about what was going to happen and what to expect. They left us alone for a few minutes while the sedative took effect and we said our final good-byes. The final shot was administered, and a few seconds later at officially 12:47 Coco exited peacefully. We cried of course, but the beauty and grace of the moment transcended the pain. Dying where one most enjoyed living is as good as it gets.
After a brief chat, Dr. G. quietly left, and we brought Merlin out to say his good-byes. I believe the opportunity for a pet to see and smell their dead companion helps with grieving process. Merlin walked straight over, sniffed her and promptly walked away. No fanfare. He just knew the furry form lying there was no longer Coco.
A simple but meaningful ceremony preceded the burial by the barn. The exact spot is where (for over a year) I've photographed the beautiful wabi sabi progression of decay of this old chair. Wabi Sabi, the Japanese aesthetic, values the beauty of impermanence and decay.
Merlin showed no interest in the burial nor visiting the grave site until months later. For almost sixteen years, it was always Merlin and Coco, Coco and Merlin. Inseparable. The Siamese twins. In more ways than I can say, it marks the end of an era.
Much to my relief, he never searched inside the house for her. I half expected him to be wailing into the night for her as he had on many nights, but no more. Domino remained conspicuously absent on all day on Tuesday. When he finally appeared in the evening, he gave me a knowing look. Since then, he's tried to play with Merlin, but Merlin is in deep mourning. He's eating well, but won't leave the darkness of the duvet unless I carry him outside twice a day. Once outside in the sunshine he perks up and we talk. He likes the sun warmed heat of the picnic table near Coco's transition spot.
On Wednesday, while we sat on the table, I asked for a sign from the beyond. A few seconds later, a bright red male cardinal appeared on a branch nearby. I asked out loud, "Are you Coco? If so, can you come a little closer?" The bird flew closer and perched on a branch about about ten feet away. I dared to ask again, "If you are Coco, can you come a little closer?" the bird instantly flew past my face, not three feet away and disappeared north of the garden. Merlin and I looked at each other and I smiled. There is life after loss.
Posted by Layla Morgan Wilde at 9/17/2010 3:27 PM 
Categories: Cats, Spirituality
Tags: kitty heaven Kitty wisdom 101 rainbow bridge end of an era cat funeral Cat Saturday cat bereavement cat-loss-death-grieving
Categories: Cats, Spirituality
Tags: kitty heaven Kitty wisdom 101 rainbow bridge end of an era cat funeral Cat Saturday cat bereavement cat-loss-death-grieving
That was probably the most beautiful post I have ever read about an animal going to the bridge. Coco was very lucky to have such wonderful humans taking care of her all the way until the end. You outdid yourself on this one. And we know that Coco is all healed up and missing you but happy again. Lots of hugs for a tough time.
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Marg, thanks so much for your support. This was much longer than I normally post, but it felt right.
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This has been such bittersweet voyage you've shared with us all. I've had a few Siamese children in my life and know how vain they can be. I'm sure CoCo is purring with pleasure at this beautiful tribute. Wish I could hug you with my paws...I'm going to make a Rainbow Tribute Page on my new blog which is finally up. Would love for you to stop by and say "hi"...Sending you many blessings.
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Wendy, thank-you and will definitely stop by.
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Such a bittersweet tale. R.I.P. Coco.
Hugs to you, Merlin and Domino.
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Thanks so much for stopping by, Mugg.
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So beautiful, Layla. Coco looks so peaceufl. Yes, maybe the female Cardinal was Coco. Amazing that she flew right by your face. Merlin knew, yes. The chair is beautiful in its impermanence. We have to make impermanence beautiful, otherwise death will destroy us. Death of everything, the transitions from one to another state of being in life, relationships.
You seem moved, very moved, by all that transpired in the last week. As anyone would be.
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Kathryn, she truly was peaceful. I never imagined it could be so beautiful. Thanks again for all your support!
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What an incredibly beautiful and deeply touching tribute to Coco. And what a wonderful sign from Coco to let you and Merlin know that she's fine. Sending all of you love and light as you both mourn the loss of her physical presence. Be gentle with yourself.
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Ingrid, a huge thank-you for all your support. I'm floating gently in a sea of gratitude and grace.
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In years to come Coco will visit you in many forms. Memories of our loved ones keep them close to us.
Blessings and prayers.
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Franks, I hope so. Thanks!
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Layla, Joe, Merlin and Coco,
What a beautiful tribute you made possible for Coco. I, was so sad for your loss of Coco. Her passing was one which involved much grace, dignity and of course, love. She is indeed a special cat and will always be by your side and Merlin's.
Blessings and love,
Maureen
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Hi Maureen, thank-you for your kind words. It's much appreciated.
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Layla, this was beautifully said. Thank you.
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Tinch, thanks. That means a lot coming from you.
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This was one of the most beautiful things I've read in quite a long time. Coco was fortunate to have such a caring compassionate human looking after her.
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Jennifer, I'm so glad you stopped by! I hope Ivan greets Coco in the Raibow Bridge.
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How inspired of Coco to take the form of a little female cardinal. That way her spirit can visit you in the garden, sing little cheerful chirpy songs for you and Merlin and she can see the world from a new perspective. Aren't you glad you asked for a sign? I almost always do. Hugz, Pat
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Pat, so true, the signs are always there if we ask and look
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Unbelievably beautiful.
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Layla-I was moved to tears by this post. Your sensitivity and caring are so beautiful. I wish all deaths could be handled with such love and delicacy. You truly have a heart of grace.
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It is my wish too. Thank-you.
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Thank you, wise and beautiful friend, for sharing this moving and loving Transition. :o)
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Sweetie: Forgive my late response, but had a hard time bringing myself to read your entry. I'm glad I did. Coco would be so proud of you for giving her such a beautiful and dignified passing. I admire the courage, strength, compassion and wisdom my Leo friend has shown facing this very difficult time, no burying your head in the sand; and your lives are richer for this. Coco has already let you know that she is with you, with the appearance of the lovely Cardinal in your garden, which by the way is the same bird that came to me after my mother died, and whose symbol I had engraved in her headstone. I was moved to tears with the pictures that accompanied your sensitive recounting of that day; Coco has given us all a wonderful gift. Thank you for sharing her with us. You, Joe and Merlin are in my thoughts, much love Theresa
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Theresa, much love and thanks to you. Talk soon.
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So sorry for your loss. What a beautiful, loving tribute to a life well lived. Hopefully your post will help and comfort other pet owners facing the same, as well as open their minds.
We are going to feature your blog this week on Pet Blogger Support Saturday. Thank you for sharing your journey.
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Thank-you so much! I look forward to stopping by.
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I came again looking to inspired and fascinated. I was not disappointed. I always find peace, beauty and hope when even I come here, your site is like a beautiful garden,a safe and wondrous place. Thank You!
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So glad you stopped by again!
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