23rd March 1993
- 17th September 2012
Here is how it happened.
I write it for my own record,
and also for those strong enough.
But don't feel you have to read it.
It isn't horrible, just sad.
He went to join his sister about 3.40pm.
It was time. Only just.
The night before, he had trotted in, and climbed up onto the windowsill behind the sofa in just two clear leaps.
He slept there all night and I stayed with him.
He hugged my hands, and enjoyed 'chinny rubs'.
He stayed there till the afternoon, napping in sunshine.
Whilst there I still offered food, but it repelled him. I left water next to him but he didn't touch it. I put some water into his mouth with a little syringe; I knew dehydration would make him feel bad. I gave him enough to wet his mouth, I think, but he didn't want more. A teaspoon or two.
(N.B. I remembered the vet saying some time ago, that if a pet is going to be put to sleep, it is best if their tummy is empty for a little while before, or else there is a chance the injection will make them sick and the process becomes difficult for them and longer drawn out. I wanted to mention this in case any one thinks I should have forced him to eat.)
He climbed halfway down, meowed, so I helped him down the last bit, about 2.30pm.
His back legs almost gave way entirely, he couldn't walk far.
He settled in the shade on the floor.
We offered a bed, a blanket, and mum offered her gilet, but he just wanted to lie down and be let be. He didn't want cuddles now, they made him feel worse. He wanted quiet and stillness. We talked gently to him now and then but tried not to disturb him. Disturbing him caused him to try to move, and he found it difficult now.
The vet came. He spoke gently and kindly to him.
He gathered him up and examined his tummy and back legs, all the while telling him what a good, brave boy he was.
His conclusion; there was no constipation, no blockage that he could detect, and he didn't think a tumour was in the way. Nothing to explain why he wouldn't, couldn't eat or poo. He said that he thought that, finally, things were giving up inside. He had so much to fight-
hyperthyroidism, FIV, hypoglycaemia (prob. caused by pancreatic tumour), and then the bacterial infection on his face that wouldn't clear. He seemed to have no pain as the vet examined him, as he squeezed and examined his tummy, hips, etc. No yelps, no signs of discomfort. There was weakness, and he probably felt sick, but no pain.
I asked the vet to give him a sedative first, as I was worried that he wouldn't be able to find a vein for THE injection, thinking that Scooter would be dehydrated. He agreed.
So, I held Scooby in my arms, his head on my shoulder, talked to him and stroked him, while the vet gave him a jab in the scruff of his neck. He jumped, as this one would have stung. (I forgot it would.) He wiggled so I lay him back down on the floor and stroked him and held his toes. I suddenly remebered Flat Mouse, and asked mum to get him. She found him just in time. I tucked Flat Mouse next to his toes, and talked to him, told him look, here he is, here's Flat Mouse. Now, you go bub-byes, it's ok. You'll be ok, and so will we. He sniffed Flat Mouse, just managed to lift a paw onto him, then fell asleep.
Mum and I stroked him and talked to him. After about five minutes, the vet gave him the other injection. Before it was completely in him, he was gone.
I turned to talk to the vet and when I turned back, mum had tucked a little blanket around him and had one hand on his back, and talked quietly to him.
Luvbug was home in half an hour. We left Scooter where he was for when he got home.
We all sat on the floor near to him and drank tea (or I had water) and we shared some funny memories through tears.
Luvbug and I have dug a place next to his sister, Figs, in the garden. We will put in the box containing the ashes of his other sister, Fluffy, and we will of course put in his mousies.
I have left the place overnight empty.
I have placed Scooter in a pillow-slip, then wrapped in his favourite blankie, then placed on a pillow, then slid him into his big cave-box in the conservatory. I have draped another blankie across the front of it and left a candle lit.
It's my plan to bury him at first light, in the garden he loved so much, while the birds are singing..................
My darling, gentle, funny friend, I miss you, and will always remember your sweet ways, your loyalty and love. I'm sorry for all the medicines, and I'm sorry I couldn't help you any more. I'm sorry you were scared, and I know you didn't really want to go. But you didn't deserve to hurt, or not be able to do the things you wanted to do any more. I hope that you are somewhere now, I hope that you are free and well. I hope that if you can see me, that you understand I didn't want you to go. I meant no harm, Scooby. I just couldn't help you any more....................
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