It feels like this year has been a rough one for some of our favorite clients at the cats-only boarding facility. Some of our long-time visitors succumbed to chronic health issues or old age. It feels like we’ve been sending a lot of condolence cards.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
We said goodbye to another dear friend this week — you may remember him as the biggest cat I’d ever seen. When he first came in to board for a weekend, he tipped the scale at almost thirty-four pounds. On his latest visit, he was down to almost twenty-one pounds. What a difference! He was more active and flexible, but still had the same awesome, loving personality.
When I got to work on Tuesday morning, he had passed away in his sleep. I’m devastated. We all are.
One of the vets and one of the vet techs both suspect the same cause: heart disease. They don’t call it the silent killer for nothing. Often, when a pet is normal, active, and eating well one minute and gone the next, the heart is to blame.
In a strange way, this makes me feel a little better about my old dog Miko, who passed away without warning in September 2001. The scene was eerily similar, as I first called out, then banged on the door, and then finally touched the cold, still body. The horror and hurt and guilt feel the same. When I spread the word to my coworkers, we all wondered if it was something we had done, or something we hadn’t done.
But it wasn’t. Sometimes, it’s just time for a pet to go. We can be thankful that he wasn’t sick or suffering. He didn’t have to go through painful tests or endless treatments. He had a normal day surrounded by caring friends, and then just went to sleep.
Those who are left behind will bear the hurt for you, my friend. Rest well.