It’s quiet in the house. The low hum of my computer’s fan is gentle white noise — like a cozy warm blanket for my mind. Rumblings of the furnace kicking off break the silence and snap me back to reality.
It’s a gray day outside — foggy, drizzling, with showers coming and going with each passing hour. There’s still a distinct chill in the air, as though spring can’t make up it’s mind, although I know summer can’t be far behind.
The table is set.
These words are written.
It’s the perfect day for the bad news I prayed would never come.
It’s hard not to feel just overwhelming sorrow when you first discover someone you’ve known for 14 years is dying. That’s what I’m feeling right now — just this dark, depressing and endless hole where my heart is. I suspect it’s not going to go away anytime soon.
As friendships go, his has been one of the best in my life. We first met when I lived in Ohio, when I really needed a friend at the time. I had just broken off my engagement, and so times were emotionally a little rough. He was there when I needed someone, and he never complained or tried to change my mind.
He was much younger then, but he grew up fast. The thing with his kind of friendship was that he never asked for much, and he was always willing to lend you his ear. He followed me across the country… not just once, but every time I moved. First to Austin, then to Boston. He was always there for me, giving unconditional love.
We spent a lot of time together, and grew older and older as the years went by. He’s mellowed out as he’s grown older, and I guess if I’m honest with myself, I have too. Our time together turned from play and fun times, to a more quiet kind of understanding and solitude, sharing the same space or room with each other. He was often just happy to hang around while I did other things, or we both watched TV, or played on the computer. Truth be told, I was happy to have him around no matter what we did together.
He was my rock in this ocean of life.
The troubles started back in October of last year. He was having trouble breathing some times. He would behave like he was choking on something, and at first I thought, “It’s probably nothing.” Maybe he should see a doctor? Medicine didn’t seem to help, so he went to the doctor and eventually ending up having an ultrasound for his heart.
He was diagnosed with restrictive cardiomyopathy with severe biatrial enlargement. According to the specialist, this is not good. He was placed on some medication to hopefully slow down his deterioration, but he wasn’t expected to live long… A few months… maybe even another year if we were lucky.
It’s nine months later, and he’s dying more quickly now. He’s not long for this world now, as today we learned his kidneys are failing.
So now, at my desk, I sit here and look at the latest test results and can’t help but cry. The numbers and medical words and everything just make it real. I can’t even bring myself to look at him.
He’s dying and I’ll miss him more than almost any one else or anything else in the world. Trite as it may sound, he’s meant the world to me.
Max has been my constant companion now for 14 years. He’s always been there for me. Knowing that his death is so certain in the close future (as opposed to some far-off date years and years from now) is a hard pill to swallow.
Does he know?
I can’t say for certain, but I think he does. He’s far less talkative than he used to be even just a few months ago. He sleeps a lot more often, and is far less likely to pick a fight with one of our other cats.
They say there are two types of people in this world — cat people and dog people. But what they have in common is that both types of people feel a special bond with their pet, and grieve their loss (even if they don’t always show it, because society generally seems to have funny feelings about such grief).
I don’t want him to die (do we ever want a loved one to die?)… But I have to accept the inevitable now. Sooner than I had expected. He’s been a good friend and I just want to make sure he has a good death.
That’s all we can ever ask of this world — to be a good friend and to have a good death. I hope it’s enough.
Read more about cardiomyopathy here.
Max in better times.
14 comments
So beautiful, John.
Your kitty has no doubt lived an amazing life full of love.
John,
First, well first and second – your pain is clear and this is truly a baring of the soul as well as a powerful, beautiful ode to the universality of companionship, love, and loss. And the power of sharing. 🙂 / 🙁
I am both.. A k9 officer and a cat owner.. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family… God Bless.
We, too, had to say goodbye to a dear kitty friend last week. It happened quite suddenly, and I’m still looking for him to do his goofy antics.
There’s a thing of such unconditional love and acceptance from cats (and dogs), that non-pet owners really miss out on. I’m sad, but I would never have chosen to give up the last eight years of joy with our Shadow to spare the inevitable pain of this goodbye.
I am sorry for your loss. I wish our kitty friends could live in good health for so much longer than the time we get to spend with them.
Sarah
So sorry to hear of all these terrible losses. I, too, was faced with the sudden decision to help my sweet Persian, Misty to Rainbow Bridge just a few short weeks ago. Misty had just turned 8 & seemed like the picture of health until one day she didn’t want to get up to eat/drink & her nictating membranes (3rd eyelids) were visible so I took her to the vet. Upon an abdominal palpation the vet noted that Misty’s kidneys were rounded & enlarged, & said that by the time a kitty stops eating/drinking there’s usually already been 75-80% of kidney function lost – it’s irreversable & the prognosis is not good. I brought Misty home in disbelief so that I could rehydrate her with Sub-q fluids & pamper her for one more night (which wasn’t nearly enough) before I had her euthanized. Misty passed peacefully & with a smile on her face as I held her in my arms & kissed her head. My 2 surviving cats are OK but quieter than usual. Everything is without my baby-girl. 🙁
Your tribute to your friend brought tears to my eyes. It is indeed a special bond.
I am at my desk at work crying right now. As someone with three dogs who does animal rescue, this piece is beautiful and really hits home. Your kitty is truly blessed to have someone like you in his life and just know that you’ve made the world a better place for him…and for everyone.
My thoughts are with you. Hugs.
My Thoughts are with you. As I look across the room to my sweet 16yr old Meghee I know of which you speak, that deep loving bond. Thanks for sharing your sincere heartfelt feelings
Thank you for writing this. I am also spending the last days with my 19 year old cat. I understand how you feel. Your cat is lucky to have you, too.
We were able to slow my Tuffy’s death from kidney disease with carefully controlled diets, but goodbyes of any duration are grief-ridden and terminal. What touches my heart greatly in your outpouring of feeling is the great desire you have to bring your friend to a good death.
I didn’t think of those words at the time, DocJohn, but that was the feeling I had as I set about preparing for Tuffy’s assisted departure from this life. When she looked at me that morning, and I knew she was telling me it was time, along with the tears I was grateful I was able to do this last thing for her–my final act of love for my best friend.
Is it enough? If the situation were reversed, I believe I would be quite content.
I can feel the love & the pain all too well. I have my mommy eskie dog on heart medication….have for almost the last year……she is 16 & was my birthday present one of the first years after my depression hit. She has given me many wonderful years of love, wonderful memories & many loving puppies that have also become part of my family. My heart goes out to you……your baby has been as lucky to have you to love & care for him as you have been blessed with his love……pain always hit when we loose unconditional love…..& there is no love like that of our pets
My heart goes out to you… I had to put down my chow-chow I raised from the day he was born, literally. He was the one thing I could always count on. Mans best freind/best friend ever. Even when I changed vehicles my nieghbors said he and my other dogs new when I was near home. They would start barking 15 minutes before I got home, I had a very irregular schedule.When I left for Katrina I never even thought about leaving them behind, if I had to leave everything behind to make sure I was able to care for them I would and did. As long as we were together nothing elese mattered. I miss every day and never will forget him.
As I look over@my 17 year old Rag doll, “BooBoo”, who is my child, I cry for you, John. I can’t imagine life without my baby. My heart. My peace. You are blessed to have loved so deeply. I believe (I have to) that we will see our furry children in Heaven again. I know I will never be able to love this deep again. Not even for a human. Being honest. You are a brave and strong person to have written this for all to read. Thank You.