I am not even sure how to begin to talk about Roy. I will say that losing him has been
impossible. Roy was euthanized a little over a week ago. It was the single most difficult
decision in my life. He was not
the classic case of not eating, immobile, or hiding. The day it happened he asked to go outside and enjoyed the
sun, tried to spray on some bushes, and thought about sneaking in an open
window. He had moments where he
would purr madly on my shoulder or forcefully meow asking for something.
Unfortunately most of his time he was in discomfort,
constantly moving about trying to find a position he could find comfort
in. He was on pain meds, first
once a day, then all the time. He
would sometimes stare off in the distance, dead in his eyes, but awake. I need to say these things to remind
myself of their truth, because once you follow through on that decision, every
part of you just wants them back in your arms. So you question your decision and forget the reality of the
situation.
Almost a year ago, I noticed Roy was losing a lot of weight
and spent a considerable amount of time in a bookshelf cubbyhole near a heating
vent. A vet eventually diagnosed
him with an abdominal mass. Surgery was not an option, so I started Roy on steroids. Luckily the steroids seemed to keep the
growth at bay and he gained his weight and strength. He was doing great for a really long time! Obviously the growth was not an
aggressive type.
About 6 months later, Roy started to have completely
different symptoms related to his throat. His high pitched and loud meows went
really quite and weak, he had some weird swallowing and things I now can’t
remember. The vet thought he may
have voice box cancer, but a definite diagnosis would require a surgery that
could potentially kill him, so obviously not worth it. I just monitored him and tried my best
to keep him comfortable.
Eventually I noticed that Roy was fighting with me about
taking his medications. He had
never done that before. In the
morning he knew I would medicate him before I left and he started to run away
from me. It was heart
breaking. He was also acting in
discomfort often and started to frequent the cubbyhole in the bookshelf
again. I made the tough decision
to stop his oral medications, since I realized they were probably causing him
considerable pain when he swallowed.
At first the lack of medications made him come alive! He was playing again and being frisky
and causing trouble, just like the good old days. He was always very affectionate, but he wanted to be held
even more and cuddled up more than ever. It was great, until I noticed the shaking in his front arms while
standing. Then, losing balance of
his back legs on occasion. Not falling or anything, but he was off. With time, he was becoming increasingly
uncomfortable just sitting around. He shifted his weight often. It was obvious
he had trouble finding comfort.
It is hard because you always wonder what you could have
done differently to keep your baby alive. Or to make sure they had the best life possible. Or be in the least amount of pain. There are no right or wrong answers,
but there are always those lingering questions. I know I made the best decisions I could have given the
information I had in front on me.
I know that I loved Roy more than imaginable, and the last thing I
wanted was for him to be gone, just as he is now. But the only thing I know for
sure is I miss him tremendously.
The day it happened, I had a vet come to the house. Roy hated to travel and the vet office,
so I didn’t want to put him through that. It was more expensive but definitely worth it. He was able to die on his favorite chair with the comforts
of his life around him. My cat
Loki was able to come into the room and see the body afterwards, to allow his
own processing of what happened. Roy and Loki were not really friends. In fact, Roy kind of bullied him.
A part of me expected Loki to be excited, since he could finally get a lot of
attention. But I think Loki is depressed. The loss of Roy has affected him more than I expected.
I chose a private cremation and I still have no idea what to
do with the ashes. It is amazing
how such a big personality could fit into such a small container. I created a memorial where he died of
sympathy cards, his collar, flowers and the ashes. Most of me still can’t accept what happened, but it will hit
me in waves. This usually happens
unexpectedly and at inconvenient times. Even while watching the new movie “Lincoln”, a wave of sadness hit
me. President Lincoln laid down
next to his son and this made me tear up thinking of all the times I laid next
to Roy with such affection. Just
watching Juncos feed on the sidewalk, I was reminded of life and death and
started to cry for Roy. Being able to leave water glasses out, or the toilet
seat up or clothes on the floor without the worry of Roy tipping it over, or
drinking from it, or peeing on it- has all made me cry.
Roy was an awesome cat. He had such a demanding presence and got into trouble a
lot. But no matter how much he
pissed me off, I loved him unconditionally. I would often tell him the most
mushy crap imaginable while holding him over my left should listening to his
purrs placed perfectly over my ear. I will miss him forever, but my life has
also gained instrumentally from having him in my life. No matter how difficult the euthanasia
decision was, or how hard this grieving has and will be; I will never regret
the love I shared with him.
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