|Good-bye fuzzy face|
Mandy's kidneys were failing and we were easing the process with biweekly saline injections and special food. Once her symptoms became worse we promised ourselves we'd do what needed to be done regardless of how we felt. Knowing your doing the right thing doesn't make it easier though. Holding her, knowing we were choosing to end her life is a unique kind of pain.
Over the span of a few days she radically lost weight and the will to live. I optimistically gave her a bath which she barely resisted (she hated them like poison) and I knew she was at the end. She started urinating outside her litter box. When I saw how painful and difficult that was for her I made the call.
The Hub cut his work day short and we took her to the vet. We held her and petted her and talked to her until the injection took hold. She wasn't in pain any more. That's what mattered. Now we're sad, but that's okay. We told Toddler Flails-a-lot to say good-bye and that Mandy was going away and she wasn't coming back.
It has been a week and I keep hearing a phantom Mandy-cat padding around the house. There's a niche in my brain that attributes certain house settling sounds to her. I feel like I'm being haunted by a memory cat. I know this feeling will go away someday and it makes me sad. It will mean her niche has been smoothed out by time. Someday we'll get another pet and there will be a new set of animal feet walking through the house, but it won't be any time soon.
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