Since this is indeed Memorial day, I thought I’d finally pay tribute to a friend that I lost a mere two months ago. You never know how much importance you place upon a fellow inhabitant of this earth than when that existence is denied to you, or even worse, when you realize that that existence is about to be denied from you. This goes for people and animals alike. The bond between owner and pet is a strange connection and one you never realize how much will be missed.
Thirteen years ago we decided to adopt our first born, an orange tabby cat named “Mango”. The Dallas SPCA was his home until we rescued him. He was the most vocal kitten in the litter and absolutely hated to be caged. He spoke to our hearts and we answered accordingly. He complained about the trip all the way home to our tiny apartment in Irving. We named him Joey, AKA “Buddykins”, and we quickly realized that he was quite intelligent and very devious. He relished in attacking any body part that was not hidden by bed covers in the dark of the night. This meant that hands and eyes were not exempt from a sudden moonlit blitzkrieg of sharp claws or teeth. He would actively participate in hide and seek games in rooms of the apartment and would fetch any object that he could grapple with his teeth. This fetching was borderline obsessive compulsive as he would not rest until the object was found. A patient and pervasive meow was heard until the offender was captured and brought to the human who threw it. Many delicate glass fixtures and ornamental items were sacrificed at the paws of Joey’s curiosity over our year with him in the apartment. This somewhat readied us for the arrival of the two baby girls that would eventually come along.
Joey was only One when we moved into our first house and another year later would have to share the spotlight with our first born daughter Sarah. She delighted in pulling his tail and giggled at the semi-serious attacks that he would inflict upon her. Eighteen months later another girl named Leah came along to seal his fate as first born of three children in the house. Another stray cat named Zipper would also call this house a home that year. The children would hence forth be an annoyance that could be ignored and dealt with by his ability to hide, at least until they were old enough to become aware of this magic trick. Oddly enough, Joey served as a natural protector of the house and always showed up when he sensed some sort of tension between human inhabitants. If his presence and angry yowling was not enough to stop the conflict, swift sharp nips to any available soft fleshy body parts were more than a deterrent to the issues at hand. Joey was the alpha male in the house from the day we moved in. All inhabitants of the house were kept in line, animal or human.
When he was seven, his family moved to Wyoming and he retained his stature as alpha male in the new house. As the girls grew, he became more forgiving of their ways and amends were made between them. Eventually a cautious trust was formed that would allow them to bond. Another two cats were added to the clan in 2005 but only a year later one of them would run away in search of greener pastures. This left the core crew of three felines to rule the house at night.
In 2007 and into 2008 it became very apparent that all was not quite right with Joey. A vet check indicated that Diabetes among other ailments were taking their toll on Joey’s body and would eventually lead to massive organ failure. In late 2008, a campaign of anti-nausea, and anti depressive pills along with twice daily insulin injections were scheduled to prolong the life of this valued member of the family. This resulted in a roller coaster ride of satisfying highs and terrifying lows in his demeanor over the next year and a half.
We constantly wrestled with the question of whether we were prolonging his life for our benefit or his. In the last year, he sometimes looked into my eyes as if he was so very tired of living. I did not want to think of a day when he would not follow me from room to room or greet me every morning at the sink for a drink from the faucet. That day was a reality that would come all too soon.
We did not realize just how fragile his life was until it was too late and a few missed shots during a weekend out of town resulted in disaster. In reality, it was probably for the best since his life had become a routine of pills and injections followed by the binging and purging of fluids resulting from the diabetes. This thought did not make the resulting events sit any better in our minds as the next days played out.
He was decidedly agitated and disoriented when we got home from our trip but we wrote it off as one of the down cycles we were accustomed to. Pills were given and injections administered. His demeanor was appearing to be normal the next morning so all was thought to be well. That evening he made a disheartening appearance down the hall from the bedrooms staggering and tripping over himself as if drunk while letting out loud yowls. the girls took him downstairs to make sure he wouldn’t throw up all over the carpet. When we checked again he was still walking around bumping into things while yelping out as if he didn’t know where he was. We found a place to lay him down and tried to calm him.
Eventually he stopped trying to walk around and we quickly realized that he was letting us know it was finally his time to leave us. His temperature dropped, his breathing became very faint and we figured that he would probably fade away overnight. The waves of reality were slowly washing over all of us as we tried to comfort our old friend. We all said goodbye to him and went to bed. At three AM it was apparent that nobody was sleeping well and we checked on him. He tried to walk but only laid on his side with legs moving in a walking motion while moaning. I comforted him and he was calm and silent once more. At Seven I came down and my presence triggered another series of moans and movements. I really thought he would pass within a few hours. I was wrong.
I went to work and left the rest of the family on death watch. In retrospect this was one of the biggest mistakes I could have made, and certainly something the girls will never forget. The vet had mentioned before that most owners are too quick to put a pet down and that being with the family as it dies is a better way to go. This idea sounds nice out of context but not actually very realistic as we discovered. On this advice, we decided to wait, and by 3pm it was all too apparent that he was suffering. A mad dash home to grab him and run to the vet was in order. within’ just a few minutes it was over and he was silent.
The family held a pretty tough funeral for Joey in the back yard. The girls had spent the day writing poems and drawing pictures of their memories of Joey for the grave. We had at one point written a stupid song for him which I will spare you from reading. We printed it out with some pictures to include along with several toys and mementos that we buried as well. We gave him one last pet and lowered him down. He will be missed by all.
