Tuesday, July 15, 2008
A week ago I had to put Scott’s cat Kelly to sleep. She woke up last Tuesday dying of old age. She was 19 ½ years old. Here is why I write about this experience. Both Scott and I agreed we would let nature take her if it was her time. But by the evening Kelly was suffering, walking a couple steps and collapsing. I took her to the vet that morning, the vet could not find any obvious illness, told me she was an old cat, but gave no indication how sick she was and that would be the last day of her life. I called Scott after having a long decision with a friend that going to the emergency vet was best for her, even if it meant putting her to sleep. Laura took me to her vet office in Vallejo and not one person argued they could do anything and it was best to let her go. However here is when the hard part begins. It has put me back to when John was “made comfortable” and died. I am having what seems like post traumatic syndrome, still seeing Kelly lying on her stinky blanket and being still and dead. Her eyes were open and she looked much younger than she was…and now I feel like I did the wrong thing. I should of waiting a few more days to see if she would of gotten better, perhaps she only had the flu and if I had let the vet run blood tests or x-ray her to make she was really sick. I am having trouble justifying euthanasia. I still look for Kelly in her chair, and wait for her to turn up a breakfast. I still see her out of the corner of my eye. Her pretty still black face peeking from the green blanket haunts me. And I just know that the morphine killed John. I should of waited and let nature decide not me.
