In obvious follow-up to the last post, we said goodbye to our cat this past Tuesday.
She was ridiculously stoic to the end, eating when she never should have wanted to and trying to walk around when she was almost entirely unable. After spending 13 of her 19 or 20 years with us, she left us as calmly as she did everything else.
We’re starting to do okay. Our dog is feeling better than he did before his illness began and we’re in the final stages of sorting his diet and medications out. Mr. Q and I are stopping short of asking each other if we’ve fed the cat or given her meds, but it’s difficult to go into certain rooms or past the scratch posts that are still around. The Magpie knows that her kitty is not here and knows that she “left her body”. But she now gets very worried that anyone leaving the house might not come back. This only happens when she’s over tired (and that happens a little more often now that the Magpie is back to refusing naps and has caught a cold). We’re a little apprehensive to ask our baby sitter over for a while, but we know at some point, we must.
She’s had a confusing couple of weeks and she’s held out remarkably well. Far better than her parents, on several occasions. She’s had to deal with so much more and she’s gotten away with so much more. And now we have to ask her to get back to the regular old routine – the one with left over Hallowe’en candy and the impending doom loom of Christmas.
We need a few weeks of nothing. Normal. No illness. No crisis. I need sleep. Mr.Q needs sleep. The Magpie needs to see us take the dog for his nightly walk and come back. Every time.