We drove to the parental house yesterday afternoon to put our almost-15-year-old cat to sleep.
Mischief was the best cat that ever existed, in my opinion.
Although, he was most grumpy-old-man cat that ever existed, in all honesty. He hated children. He hated dogs. He didn’t much care for snow. He liked to lay in the sunlight near the window and sleep all day long. He loved to scratch my leather purses, especially the unblemished, brand-new ones; not the old, already scratched, cracking purses. Oh no. He knew the difference. He preferred his foot stacked in a little pyramid, which was probably because he was a Persian and had no nose. His little flat face just couldn’t eat the flat food. He liked his water fresh and sometimes he would just sit near the bowl and participate in what we called “water patrol.” He would stare and make sure no other cats or gremlins would come and drink all his water.
He was also a fan of staring at electrical outlets. They were fascinating. I liked to think that they were telling him the secrets of the universe.
We took Mischief to the parent’s house and let him romp in the back yard. He got to eat grass and wild onions and scratch trees and generally be adorable. He used every single litter box in their house that afternoon (they have three!) and he managed to eat their cats food and drink the water there too.
Mischief had his last meal of strawberry yogurt on the back of the couch about 5 pm yesterday afternoon. He used to live on nothing but strawberry yogurt when he was little. We figured it would be a good treat for him. He ate almost half the little yogurt cup before the vet showed up to do her thing.
I guess we are lucky enough that the parents live in a small enough town where vets still exist that make house calls. If I had to watch Mischief die in an antiseptic room at a vet’s office, I think it would have been so much harder. He was at one of his favorite places in the world when he went, so that makes it a little easier. Not that watching a pet die is ever easy. Especially one that has been around for so long.
I did not stay outside for the initial injection of valium and ketamine. I did come outside just in time to see Mischief lying on their table in his little cat bed, head crooked, looking up at me with his hazy valium eyes. He looked so pitifully young and old at the same time. It broke my heart to know that the last time he would ever see me I was about to cry slobbery gross tears all over his little cat head.
I watched as the vet injected his little freshly shaved arm with whatever medicine makes the heart stop. He looked so peaceful.
It was hard to believe that just a few minutes earlier he was eating yogurt off a spoon on the back of the couch with some serious fervor and now he was drifting off towards kitty cat bed heaven. My little friend is in a better place, but it still hurts.
We left him on the chair on the porch for a few minutes in his cat bed. He loved that thing. He had ripped holes in it and it was covered in tufts of his fur from him sleeping in it so much. When the grave was dug in the backyard, we put him in a box with his cat bed and Lee’s baby blanket. We buried him in the backyard around 830 pm last night and had a little kitty burial ceremony for him.
I have so many pictures on my phone that are making me a slobbery gross crying mess.
I miss my fuzzy friend.
(This was originally posted at one of my wordpress accounts: http://geistherz.wordpress.com/2012/02/07/goodbye-dear-friend/ on 2/7/2012. I need to consolidate all my blogs into one giant blog of blogness rather than splitting my efforts amongst 3 or so. But as I like to say, I am a Gemini. This will probably never happen.)