trying to do what's right

There are certain things I don't take joy in writing about.

I like writing about sports, I like writing about stupid things I see on a regular basis, I like writing about the things I do with Rachel and Payton.

I like writing.

Just not when it involves the possibility of having to put my cat Kisa to sleep.

For those unaware, Kisa has been with me since I was 14 and a freshman in high school.  I'm now 31 and she's still with me.  She's older as well and it shows.  She's been arthritic for a while, she's no longer really grooming herself, her appetite isn't good at all, and it seems as if she's trying to tell me something since she's taken to peeing on the floor in the spare bedroom randomly.

She's always occasionally peed on stuff for various reasons, usually her being mad at me for one reason or another.  In the past, it was predictable.  It was limited to towels and the occasional plastic bag.  Now it's just straight onto the carpet and that's raised my level of concern greatly.

So what makes it hard to write about this?

I don't want to write some lengthy piece "remembering" Kisa before she's actually gone.  On Thursday she's going in for bloodwork and that will determine the next step.  If the bloodwork shows she has some serious issues, it's going to be time to put her down.  If it doesn't, it's on to the next test.

I also don't want to be all sappy about it either.

What I refuse to do is what I've seen other people do in the past.  I refuse to keep her alive just because I can't let go.  I can't sit there and give her a ton of medications that "might" be making her better without really knowing for sure.  I can't sit here and justify dragging it out when she's possibly suffering.

Do I think she's suffering?  It's hard to say.  I know she doesn't move the way she used to, but she doesn't give any solid indication that she's in pain.  She doesn't whine or cry a lot when I'm home.  She just kind of purrs, tries to lay in my lap, and after a while goes to sleep somewhere like she always has.  She's very affectionate still with me.  She doesn't act like she's in pain, but then again, neither did Shade before my mom discovered that he had severe issues with his leg.

The only way I'm going to know is by having some work done and see what the results are.

What I do know is I'm prepared for the worst in this case.  I'm ready if the vet tells me that she needs to be put down.  I'm not going to argue, tell them they need to do something to make her better.

I'm not going to.

My older sister is like that.  Instead of doing what's best for the animal, she holds on and tries to sustain their life beyond what it should be.  She does it thinking she's caring for the animal and being humane towards it, but she's really doing the opposite.  She's making the animal suffer unnecessarily.

I won't let that happen.

Look, I've gotten nearly 18 years out of Kisa.  She's been through a lot with me.  I've chronicled a lot of it in the past and will do so again in the future, especially once she does die.  There are a lot of memories, a lot of stories.  She's been a great companion with me through a lot of ordeals.  I can't ask for much more.  The shame of it is it taking her til she was this old to get along with another cat like she does with Pook.

Granted, she did get along with one other cat in her time, but those moments were rare.  Usually she was very territorial with me.  Now she's just as likely to lay on Rachel, my mom, my sister, or Payton when she's asleep.

If the next couple of weeks are her last, well, then that's what's meant to be and I won't question it.  I'll reflect on a lot of the things with her, but I won't regret anything.  I won't be sitting there wondering if putting her down is the right choice.

Some won't understand the emotion behind a pet.  Some of you won't get it.  That's life.  A lot of you will though.  Whether it be a dog, cat, or whatever it is you own, a lot of you understand the bond that develops.

Funny thing with Kisa was I was so not a cat person when I got her.  I was and still am a dog person.  I liked cats, but I didn't have the same draw towards cats that I had towards dogs.  My previous pet before Kisa was a dog named Jax.  He used to pull me down when I was trying to put on my snowpants and drag me around the house.  When my mom and sister would go sled riding, he used to pull them up the hills.  He was a strong dog and he was a fun dog.

I wasn't old enough though to really grasp the responsibility needed to own a pet though.

Kisa was a definite surprise.  A little white ball of fluff hiding under my bed, which at the time was in the living room.  She wouldn't come out for anything, and thus began Kisa's long infamous antisocial bout.  For a long time, she didn't care for anyone that wasn't my mom, Teresa, or me.  Anyone else needed to back off and do so quickly.  Even with us, she had a short fuse.  If you so much as moved a centimeter while she was on you, she'd start growling.

It didn't take long for her to grow on me, which was the biggest surprise back then.  Pretty soon, she was running the neighborhood.  She chased all the strays away, killed all the rodents, and did her best to reduce the bird population.

Along the way, there have been a lot of adventures.  I'll try to share some of them over the next few weeks depending on how things go with the vet.  If things go well, forget it.  I'm saving those stories until she reaches her dying days then.

I have to sell the sentimentality of it all, right?

Here's a teaser in fact.

One story involves getting her out of a tree.  Another involves the fight that left her ear slit.  Another is how she'd lay on my mom's shoulder when my mom was trying to study for school.  There was the time my mom tried to give her a bath (that never happened again).

So while it doesn't bring me joy to think I might be remembering her soon, it was a great ride and I'll always remember her.

In the end, the memories will stay with me forever.

And that's what matters most.