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Don’t cry in my mask? I’m crying everywhere now

After my last post, relating to crying on the pavement outside the vet’s whilst wearing my mask, I have sadly had occasion to repeat the experience. This time with Mr J alongside me as we had to make the heart-wrenching decision to have our lovely cat put to sleep. 

We have spent the last few weeks, since she was diagnosed with a tumour in her gut, feeding her the loveliest food she has had in her entire life and administering steroids and gentle cat-laxative. Which had seemed to have encouraging results, and she had mostly been quite a happy lady.  I had convinced myself that she was actually putting on a little weight (she wasn’t) and that she was not in pain (we think I was right on this score at least), but she didn’t have much energy. We had hoped our children would see her again at Christmas at least.

She still managed to climb up the trellis onto our garden shed, so she could survey the nearby gardens. She would still hassle me for the fish or chicken I now miraculously prepared for her. 

But on Monday, she stayed in her basket at breakfast time. When she came out eventually to find me, I was rehearsing on Zoom with my singing group. I scooped her onto my lap and petted her whilst singing. She purred a lot. She would normally not have stayed long, but she clearly didn’t have the energy to climb off.

We realised she could not eat. She licked some fishy water from around the sides of my latest offering of coley. (Her brother thought it was his birthday as he wolfed what was left.) She could only walk a few steps at a time, and looked a little confused despite her purring. I called the vet – could we bring her checkup forward? We discussed options over the phone. Fear of internal rupture. I was able to discuss with Mr J and we hugged that poor old cat in the knowledge that we would probably not be able to do it again. On the very short drive to the vet surgery, the cat didn’t cry. That was a first – she hated car journeys and always gave us a running commentary.

The vet was great and gave us options, but also gentle advice. All of it out on the street, with our masks on and other pet-owners in a queue behind us. We made the right decision and came home with our lovely cat wrapped in a shroud in her carry-basket.

We were not allowed into the surgery while the vet did the deed. Having experienced this before inside the consulting room, I am in two minds as to whether this was better or worse.

Once the mask was off at home, I cried for the rest of the evening apart from a half-hour when I dragged myself out for a walk. Strange – it is normally out on the walk that the eyes get watering…

So, now we are a one-cat family. 




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