All Souls Day: Putting a Beloved Pet to Rest

On the fourth day, the rain ceased. I like to think the world wept for him, and yet when it was time, a sense of peace came about, as if to comfort me. That didn’t make the decision any easier.

In May my boyfriend and I made the excruciating decision to put our cat, Tiger, to sleep. We made jokes about Star Wars but tears were falling from my eyes, dripping down upon quivering lips. On that Friday, it didn’t matter that I had two days off from work, or that the weekend proved to be sunny and bright. My world had dimmed.

Though his name had been Tigger during his stay at PetsMart, we removed a “g” from his name and gave him a sense of masculinity. To be honest, though, his sturdy build gave him enough cat cred that he didn’t want for much.

I think most animals end up choosing their favorites, no matter where they are. It just so happened, of course, that Tiger chose me as his human. He would lay on my bed rather than my sister’s and eventually, when I moved out to attend college, his little furry orange and white body followed me there too. My first apartment off campus didn’t allow pets, but as soon as one opened up across the street, in a pet-friendly zone, out came the cat carrier—and the curious meows as we drove to our new home together.

I worked a lot through college and yet I still had a smile in store at nearly midnight when I would trudge up the stairs to my apartment. Who would be sitting there peering through the door-length window but my little Squish? That of course was the (one of many) pet name I had come up with for him. Those golden eyes and twitching whiskers would stare up at me for moments before his form disappeared behind swinging blinds. Life’s problems seemed to fade as I cuddled with my furry little baby. I always felt a sense of love as I walked to the car in the morning and his twinkling eyes slowly closed behind the glass. It was a kitty goodbye wave if I ever saw one.

All of these thoughts and memories washed over me that Friday. The same apartment we had been living in was the only one he had escaped from for a short time. Intent on following after my boyfriend, I believed he had slipped out one night and couldn’t find his way back. It was the day I moved in, and one of the most horrible, sleepless nights of my life. He came back home the next day, but I have never cried so much in my life.

Until that Friday.

How do you look into a loved one’s eyes and tell them that this is the best thing for them, that you’re only thinking of their well-being? How do you know when it’s the right time, and that they approve?

I’ve never experienced loss of this kind before. I could hardly focus on my work, and driving home took every ounce of my concentration.

My boyfriend agreed to drive us to the vet that Friday afternoon, and if it weren’t for the knowing voice in my head, I’m pretty sure I would have had Tiger out of his kennel and on my lap. His small form seemed so tiny next to the memories of the burly cat that flooded my mind. Nights of waking up due to his weight upon my chest and tiny kitty paws in my stomach were ones I wanted to recall and live again. Tiny nose kisses and tickling whiskers—those were all things I missed more than ever in those final moments.

The back room at the vet was cozy, but expectations hung in the air as much as they would at a normal doctor’s office with hospital beds, medical equipment and sterilized floors. I focused upon the curious furry form in the carrier and tried to hold my emotions back. That floodgate would soon fail.

Perhaps it was the discussions we’d had, the empathy and compassion of the vet, or the simple fact that I knew I had to let go, but the decision itself was easier to make than I had imagined. It felt right in my heart.

Our final moments together are too precious and emotional for me to put down here, but I know in my heart that my Squish is up with all the little kitties in heaven, probably walking across angel chests and snuggling up to their porcelain legs. Fluent in German, I would often talk to him in rambling Deutsch, all loving words of course. “He’s going to teach those kitties up there some German,” I joked to my boyfriend. The glassiness in his eyes must have been mirrored in mine.

I still can’t get rid of the chair Squish used to sit in and I still see him around the house at times, but knowing he is no longer in pain is a comforting feeling, even as I miss the soft touch of his darting tail and the cold, wet tickle of his pink, one-freckled nose. So while I bawled my eyes out and hugged his tiny form to my chest, I knew that in this instance, I wasn’t so much saying goodbye as I was letting go. There’s a song that has been comforting to me in the month since. As the lyrics go, per my recall, “Come to teach us, then they leave us, to find some other soul to save.”

Here’s to Squish, my kleines Popo, Captain Shtinkpants. May God watch over you.

 

 

Rebecca Henderson holds a Master’s in German and a Bachelor’s in Creative Writing. Best expressing herself through the written word, she enjoys the smell of burning rubber and can recite the ABC’s of the automotive world upon command. Rebecca hopes to shift your world perspective through her words, because looking out the same window every day hardly makes for an interesting life.