*blinks back some tears*
So the backstory here is that Ding is the cat I've had for 18 1/2 years--since I was 18 in fact. My entire adult life I've had her. About a year ago she chewed a sore on her front left paw. We tried various bandaging methods but she kept chewing it worse.
We are very fortunate in that one of our best friends (Dusty) is a vet. He and his wife come over probably about once a week just socially. He had been looking at it and advising us, but eventually it got really bad and he took her in to the clinic. It turns out she had chewed off her dewclaw toe entirely. He removed the little bit of bone that was left and sewed up the foot. We spent about the next six months trying to get that foot to heal. It would close up a little, then open again. Eventually we had her with an over-the-elbow bandage and an e-collar but even with repeated surgeries the thing wouldn't close.
We also found a lump higher on her leg. Dusty removed it and had it sent to the lab for testing and it came back as metastasized lung cancer. She didn't have any actual lung cancer symptoms, though, and a chest x-ray didn't see any masses in her lungs. The chances are that the foot would not heal because of the cancerous tissue--which was also probably why she chewed at it in the first place. The upside to that is that it probably didn't hurt much, either, because cancer doesn't tend to have a lot of nerves. We decided to amputate the leg at Dusty's recommendation. Cats do really well with limb amputations, because they don't have the psychological attachment to the limb that people do. True to the trend, she was literally running on her three legs the same day of the amputation.
Now, a lot of people who didn't know Ding would say that all of this was drawing out her suffering and that she should have been put to sleep, etc. Well, no. She was not suffering--and would be even better without the leg. Dusty agreed with us, too: she was still a happy, vital cat who was enjoying life. She liked nothing better than sitting on your lap while you watched TV. She would purr up a storm. Or if you put her on your chest while you were lying on your back, she would snuggle her head up under your chin and give you "chin bonks" while purring happily. When she wasn't sitting on your lap or whatever, she enjoyed sitting in her bed in a patch of sun, or snuggling with one of the other cats. She was not ready to go yet. She was still enjoying her life.
The amputation was several months ago and as I said it really didn't faze her much. As recently as yesterday I saw her run, and she seemed content.
This morning Dan came in to get me up. Ding was vomiting white foam. Now, I've seen her vomit foam before, but I came out and this was different. She was lying on her side, panting, vomiting, with her abdomen bloated with gas. Then she had a little bowel movement right there, lying on the floor. She
always at least tries to make it to the litterbox (she had pee accidents from time to time.) I'd never seen her like that and she looked miserable. I asked Dan to call Dusty. We couldn't get him or his wife on the phone, so Dan went to their house. It was about 7:30am. I called Dominic's school to tell them he would be late, because I felt it was very likely he was going to need to say goodbye.
Dusty and his wife Sara came over (they got out of bed--they understood the urgency and didn't mind) and Dusty examined her. By this time she'd calmed down a lot and had even gotten back into her bed. She was very listless, though, and I had the feeling she was telling me that she was ready to go. I didn't want to see her go through that again. Dusty said that what we saw was likely a seizure, which is not a good sign in cats, especially ones that are already ill. He listened to her lungs and said that she had no air movement on one side, and the other side didn't sound good. She was visibly exhausted. He said that he thought it was time, and we agreed.
So Dusty drove to his clinic to pick up the shots, and we spent the next 30 minutes or so with Ding. We took turns lying on the couch with her on our chest, just how she liked best. I went first, and then Dominic, and then Dan. When I put her on Dan's chest, she struggled a little to get up high enough and gave him a bonk on the chin. He said "I was almost hoping she wouldn't do that," and it was clearly an emotional moment. She did it a couple more times. I think she was saying goodbye. Then she sat on my lap and we all pet her until Dusty and Sara got back.
Dusty gave her a shot of anesthetic to make her go to sleep, which took a few minutes. Once she was asleep and comfortable, he gave her the other shot. A few minutes later, he checked her heart with his stethoscope and said she was gone. I gathered her up in my arms and held her and cried. Then I took her to the other cats so that they could see her. I don't know how much they understand what "dead" is, but I think they understand something, and maybe this will help them understand why she isn't around anymore. Cory licked her forehead a couple of times and then pulled back, confused. He knew something was wrong. I took a picture of Cory and Pixie lying next to Ding.
Dusty offered to help us bury her, so we went out in the yard and dug a hole. I went back inside to get some cloth, and saw that Dusty had put her back into her bed. She looked very peaceful. I brought her bed out to the driveway and put her in the sun one last time while Dusty dug the hole in the flower bed. When it was dug, I wrapped her in a sheet of purple fabric and we laid her in the hole and carefully covered her. Dusty had uncovered some bulbs while digging the hole, and we replanted those on top.
I am so grateful that we have a friend like him. I am so glad that her last few hours didn't involve a scary and uncomfortable car ride to the vet, a scary and uncomfortable office, a cold stainless steel table, and all of that. Instead she was able to leave with dignity in her own home, surrounded by her family who loved her.
I briefly considered staying home from school for the day but decided that staying home alone sounded awful, so I got ready for class. Dan took Dominic to school and I left for my classes as well. I mostly held it together for my two midday classes, sniffling a little here and there, but mostly doing ok. On the drive home, however, I totally lost it. I was bawling in the car. When I got home, I sat and sobbed loudly for probably a good 30 minutes straight. I achieved a roaring headache.
I had to go back to school for class at 4pm, and made it through my next two classes ok. I left sculpture early because I really wanted to be at home with my family, and wanted to be with Dominic and make sure he was doing ok as well. My teacher was very understanding.
And so here I am now, still with the raging headache, fighting off the tears, knowing that my little girl is gone. My sweet little kitty who had such a heart of gold... I keep remembering how limp she felt when I picked her up to wrap her in the cloth... how much I missed her when I hugged her to my chest that last time before putting her in the ground...I keep thinking about how brave she was for everything that she's gone through and been such a trooper--did I mention that about 9 years ago she went into liver failure and survived that, too?
I miss her so much already. I know it was the right thing to do. It was her time--it hadn't been before, but then it was and she let us know.
Goodbye, Ding. I love you. I hope you're somewhere nice with lots of sunshine to nap in and lots of bugs to eat.
Ok I failed at the "not crying too much" part. I'm bawling again.
Here are some sad photos of saying goodbye--kind of depressing
