Long Week

Our oldest cat Val was finally too uncomfortable, too weak and to scared by her own ills to fool ourselves any longer. Over the course of the last two weeks we had gone from baby food out of the jar to heating it, then to mixing it with warm water trying to make it easier to eat. Each variation worked for a day or maybe two, with the amounts being consumed dwindling each time, until she had wasted away to a state that we could not ignore. We brought her to the vet on Friday morning and paid for her to be individually cremated. The office wisely finishes all the arrangements including forms and payment before you go inside.

We buried the first two cats we lost in our yard, but by the time we lost Max to cancer had realized that our house was not suited to aging in place. It is a three story, skinny old house that is utterly charming. But its hallways and doors would barely work with a walker, let alone a wheel chair. In addition to the three flights of late 1800's stairs, with square landings that turn twice inside, the front door sits on top of a flight of nine wide brownstone steps with curved ornate iron railings. Each front door, actually a pair of two both for the outer and the inner doors, is as narrow as the hallways upstairs. So we started getting our cats cremated and they live in cat-theme metal cans on our mantelpiece. Once in a while a cat knocks them down, but we just have to put them back up again.

We brought her younger companion Siamese named Atlas to the vet, hoping he would understand why his lifelong mom/girl cat had suddenly disappeared. Atlas is a confounding mix of contradictions. He is high strung and dim - there is no problem too simple for him to be unable to solve. But despite his constant noisy angst, he is the best companion we've ever had for ill and dying cats. While his other companions have have feared illness and run from it, he goes to a sick cat and stays by their side. He knows when they have died as well.

Atlas and my old Grey cat, who came in off the street as a kitten, hated each other. After a few tossed sandals they realized that fights would not be tolerated and kept a constant distance from each other. But the night that Grey died, Atlas spent the entire time nestled by his side. I knew when Grey was gone by Atlas. There was a final puff of breath, as I felt it Atlas touched his nose and nuzzled an ear. Then he got up and was gone to a warm bed. It was as if his job was over.

So when we had to make the call for Val, we brought Atlas. We apologized to the vet for the inconvenience, explaining that it was our best chance to avoid a month of tranquilizers. They didn't seem too surprised by it so we were probably not the first. Atlas parked himself by her side while the shot to make her fall asleep took and stayed there the whole time. As her heart was stopping he nuzzled her head, but didn't budge. We gave him a few minutes but finally lifted him away. It was clear he was going to stay with her as long as she was in the room, in any form.

Atlas made a few noises on the way home, not his usual complaint, and hid under the bed with our third cat when we got inside. The remaining two get along but it is an awkward alliance. The third cat was either afraid of another cat carrier appearing, or knew something was wrong. By the next morning both cats were eating and looking for sun spots on the floor, but are very subdued. Atlas often plays with cat toys - the only cat we've ever had who actually finds cat toys interesting. It is the second day after and so far the toys are undisturbed.