A Life Worth Mentioning

It seems to me that the creator made a HUGE mistake when divvying up life expectancy.  Why are dogs and cats given such a short time on earth and parrots given so much time on earth (no offense, but really).

We recently had to "put down" our oldest cat, Brookside, who was 16-1/2 years old.  She was the very first cat that we owned.  The kids and I actually got her from the county SPCA during a "woofathon" that they were holding in partnership with a local radio station.  Dad, who is allergic to cats, was on business trip when we met this cute little ball of orange and white fur.  When I pointed out to my daughter and son that Dad was allergic to cats (we already had a yellow lab at home), their reply was that there are drugs and shots he could take.

Right from the beginning, Brookside made it clear from the start that Rosie (our lab) was bound by the "law of the claw" which simply meant, no flipping Brookside or sniffing where it's not polite or your sweet lab nose will get hit with a full paw of nails.  Rosie caught on pretty quickly.  The antics of Brookside and Rosie were hysterical.  Watching the little kitten bully the larger lab was like a cartoon.  They would sleep together and tease each other -- to a point -- and were great pals.

Brookside was my daughter's companion, that is until said daughter went to college.  All of a sudden, I had a very determined, bigger ball of fur declaring her rights and placement desires in relation to where my husband and I slept in bed.   If I was not position just right, I would have the circulation in my arm interrupted as a nine-pound cat exerted 200-pound per square paw as she waited for me to adjust to her liking.  It was a fun and sleep-deprived game.

Over the years, we lost our lab, Rosie, our second female cat, Margarite (with whom Brookside had a love/hate relationship), and added two male cats (Buff--named because of his color and Jake--the younger one taking the role of the annoying brother).  All the cats, I might add, were either from a shelter (the girls) or just outside our door (another story).

With each loss, we have all cried and felt the guilt of not being able to fix our beloved pets.  Rosie, the lab, died from heart issues at 12 years old, Margarite, the other female cat, died of cancer at 12 years old about a year-and-a-half ago, and now Brookside with lymphoma.

What is the point of such a short life span for such loving little souls?  The last four nights, I've "slept" on the living room couch or floor watching Brookside to ensure that she was getting water and some food and was not in distress.  When a soul decides enough is enough, they stop eating, and Brookside hasn't eaten since middle-of-the-night Tuesday (and before that since Thursday).

My heart broke for this little cat who bossed me into a specific sleeping position so that she was comfortable to her liking and who bullied me out of my computer chair to the point that we had to get another chair -- both of which she used.  Unless you are an animal lover, you have no idea of the depth of love and loss that is involved with living with an animal and making a space in your life and heart for them.

I called my daughter yesterday, who was Brookside's first love, and she had to beg off the phone because she did not want to cry in the middle of NYC as she was walking to the subway.  

So it fell on my wonderful son and me to bring Brookside to the vet for the very last time.  It was the two of us who brought Margarite just a year-and-a-half earlier.  We felt like crap, but knew we were doing more good than bad because Brookside was not living, really.  She cried out as she stumbled out of her basket, and that was it.  I was not going to wait until the afternoon, she was ready and let me know it.

After the technician took Brook away, we were able to visit an older kitten, Gus, who we had brought to the vet's.  Gus is all black, with the exception of a small puff of white on his belly, and is a bundle of love and purring.  He had just been "fixed" the day before and was getting ready to be adopted.  Then we visited the four very young kittens who were hidden in our driveway wall and discovered as we were doing some landscaping.  They toddled over to the door of their cubby, yakking up a storm and tumbling over each other.  Between the two visits, we felt a bit better.  Nothing like the cartoon antics of young animals to make you smile.

So the household is adjusting.  The boys are a bit confused.  We have a lot of great memories of our Brookside and the rest.  Hopefully, the somewhere after the now has a place for them all.  It is a privilege to be part of an animal's life.