Life - When death becomes a release

Not too long ago, I was forced to make a difficult decision.

I had to decide whether to continue to sustain the life of my cat, Kisa, or finally put her down.  What was once considered a very difficult decision was made easier by how much I could tell she was hurting.

The signs were all there.  By the time she was settled into a sitting position, it was time to move again.  We barely saw her (some of this attributed to Payton, but Pook runs from her and still is seen a lot during the day), she was peeing on just about anything that was on the floor, she was barely eating, and she wasn't drinking much either.  You could look at her and tell something was wrong with her.

The initially possibility of putting her down was raised earlier this year.  We took her to the vet, had her checked out, and got a relatively clean bill of health all things considered.  We put her on a wet food diet and she seemed to be rebounding some.  She didn't come out much still, but when we did see her, she looked a lot better.

That didn't last long though.  She slowly started to thin out again and the rate that she was peeing on things was steadily increasing.  It was getting to the point that it was a surprise when we didn't find something peed on, usually in Payton's room.  Then, a couple of months ago, we were fortunate enough to see a kitten running around outside.  This kitten became Goobie, had a worm in her head, and became Pook's new best friend.  Kisa started to come out more, but it was mostly because Goobs liked to run under the bed.

A few weeks ago, it was decided that it was time.  I let my mom and sister know and took a Friday off of work so I could take her up to Rachel's work and have the final act done.

On September 14th, Kisa took her final breath and was removed from her pain.

I've had plenty of time to reflect on this moment, reflect on what happened.  I've been able to think about the memories I shared with this cat, and marvel at the fact that she lived nearly 19 years.  She went from a petrified kitten hiding under my bed, to my constant companion no matter where I lived, to barely being seen in her final months.

When she was a kitten, she was extremely tempermental.  Yes, she played like most kittens, but everything was on her terms.  If she was laying on you and you moved, you received one growling warning, then you were clawed and she'd jump down in disdain.  She bit my mom the one and only time my mom attempted to give her a bath.  In fact, my mom was bitten by Kisa on two different occasions, the only time the cat seriously bit anyone.

Okay, so there was the one time when I was holding her (something I did frequently until she got older and decided she didn't like it anymore) and she was licking my nose (a Kisa trademark), when she suddenly decided she wanted down.  Her way of letting me know?  Chomping down on my nose and then jumping down.

I was clawed a few times, usually in the brief moments that she did decide to play, but other than that, her preferred bonding method was to sleep right up against me every night.

In short, she was a good cat.

Until she got older, cranky, and decided that displaying her mood meant peeing on things.

In that regard, putting her to sleep was easy.  I was tired of constantly washing clothes that had been peed on, tired of finding the spots on the carpet.  It had reached the point where it was a burden on me, in addition to be an annoyance to Rachel as it was usually hers or Payton's clothes that Kisa decided to whiz on.  Her best days were behind her and keeping her alive didn't serve any purpose other than to have to clean up more messes.

Even so, it wasn't easy to do.  My sister was there, and as often is the case with her, was a tad emotional during the event.  The hardest part for me was after it was done, she was buried and we went home.

It's been those quiet moments where I'm either the only one still awake, or by myself, and I think about her.  I think about her giving one last annoyed meow as the vet injected her.  I think about her breathing just stopping, eyes still open, and it hurts my heart everytime I think about it.  I sit and wonder what she's thinking as her body functions shut down almost instantly.

It tears at me, mostly because for more than 18 years, this cat was the one constant in my life.  Work could stink, family could be gone, friends could be busy, but there was one thing I could count on when I was at home in my room, and that was that Kisa was going to be there, and she was going to be happy to see me.

The last year and nearly four months have given me something else constant: a loving girlfriend and her daughter, but saying goodbye to those 18 plus years wasn't easy.  Luckily, there's a lot to look forward to.  I do have Rachel, Payton, Pook, Shenzie, Goobie, and Turk.  I still have family and friends who have been there for years now.

Her death was a challenge, but I'll never forget Kisa and what she brought to my life.  Her death was a release for both of us, just in different ways.