The Black Cat that Nobody Wanted
This posting is dedicated to Inky, my black cat. I have written about him in previous posts, but this will be the last one about him. Because tomorrow at this time, Inky will have crossed the Rainbow Bridge and have left this physical world and will only exist in a spiritual sense.
I find myself lacking words to describe how I feel. My emotions are all over the place when it comes to making that “decision” to end my pet’s life. When I find myself in this position sometimes it is best to just write what is on my mind and filter it later.
Inky came to me because he was unwanted. He had issues when I got him 8 years ago and I have dealt with all them as best as I could; emotionally and financially.
If I didn’t take Inky he would have ended up at a shelter and would have probably been euthanized than because of his physical ailments. But I took him anyway.
Inky came from California and had been the only cat in his previous home. He had never seen another cat or dog and had never been outside. I gave Inky all that and more. He learned to live with 6 other cats when I got him and with my dog which eventually became two. I gave him wet food which he had never had and he learned to enjoy the outdoors and to feel grass under his paws and fresh air and sunshine on his face.
Inky has shown me patience with animals by dealing with his digestive issues and his quirkiness that he had about himself. I nicknamed him my Green Eyed Monster, because he has very green eyes. Inky wasn’t an original name, but that was the one he came with.
Inky is declawed and I wish he wasn’t. Why people do that I don’t know, but it has always really bothered me.
I will miss feeling his cold nose on the back my calf when I’m getting the cats food ready, or him standing on my chest to get my attention to pet him at night while I lay in bed trying to watch TV through his body. I will miss feeling his whiskers against my face when I am half asleep and he brushes up against me on the bed trying to get attention or just get closer to me. There are many things I will miss about him.
I know it feels as if he is already gone and that is because he has declined physically so much in the last couple of weeks that I can’t bare to see him struggle anymore. He is having a hard time walking and keeping his balance. He weighs only about 8 to 9 pounds and when he was in his prime he weighed closer to 18. His appetite has decreased but he is still eating. But each day I see him wasting away in front of me and I can no longer see him suffer. He is uncomfortable and cries when I pick him up to hold him. He must ache all over.
Tonight he is spending his last night in the house; sleeping comfortable on a soft feather bed in my spare room. He has been bathed and brushed and petted for the last time tonight and fed his favorite food.
Tomorrow at 6:45 I will arrive at the vets, cat carrier in hand with Inky inside. She will have me sign a waiver on allowing her to end his life. I will hold him one last time and kiss him on the head and begin to cry. She will shave one of his front legs. She will place a tourniquet on his leg. She will inject him with sodium phenobarbital, the same compound given to operate on animals, but it is a lethal overdose this time. She will check for a heartbeat to make sure he is gone. He will loose control of his bladder and bowels. And I will cry some more. I will walk out of my vet’s office carrying an empty cat carrier and cry the whole way home.
I will ask myself over and over again, “Did I do the right thing? Was there anything else I could have done?” When deep down inside there was nothing else I could do for him but end his suffering.
Inky will cross the Rainbow Bridge and I know that Tucker, Spunky, Rio, Melvin, Cecil and Autumn will be waiting for him. I hope they greet him and let him know that everything is OK.
I will have him cremated and when I receive his box with his ashes, I will place it on the shelf with his picture to join all the others I have had to say goodbye to in the last 10 years.
The black cat that no one wanted, I hope I gave him a good life while I had him. I will miss him dearly. And than there is five.
Hug you pet tonight or today whenever you read this. Let them know you love them and treasure all those moments you have with them. They don’t live as long as we would like them to, but they teach us so much while we have them with us.
