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Hopes for My Beloved Cat

It's very weird and surreal knowing that Cocoa is gone now. I'm actually still ridden with guilt over my decision. This morning, she was eagerly eating the tuna I spoiled her with, meowing as usual to wake me up, purring on my lap, rubbing against Matt's feet when he got out of the shower, etc. Was she ready? Was it the right time?

Part of me had wished she'd died in her sleep last night so I wouldn't have had to make the decision.

I hope she wasn't scared. I hope that she felt relaxed when she was given the sedative. She almost instantly laid in my arms after hissing from the needle prick. I stroked her lovingly as she laid in my arms, making her little snoring sounds that she tended to do when she was sleeping these past couple years, until it was time.

I laid her on the blanket on the table. She didn't move at all when they injected her. I stroked her continuously while the vet listened for her heartbeat, finally telling us, "She's gone."

Her eyes remained open. Other than that, she just appeared to be sleeping. It was obvious her spirit had left her body. I whispered a few loving words, gave her several kisses on her head, and left before she had any involuntary muscle twitches due to air escaping her lungs. I didn't want to see that. I wanted to remember her as (hopefully) peaceful.

I hope she knows that I did it because I love her. That her being pain and stress free was more important to me than selfishly holding onto her for a few days, weeks, or months more because I was afraid of life without her. That I didn't want to worry about her when I went to Florida and moved to the new apartment. That I wanted to be there with her in the end.

It's only been two hours, and I miss her terribly. She's been in my life longer than she hasn't (11 years vs. nearly 18). It's going to be difficult adjusting.

My hope is that, if there is an afterlife, she's somewhere with sunshine and grass. I hope that she has her eyesight, her former agility, and is frolicking as she once did.

I hope she's happy and pain free.

I hope she forgives me for "playing God" and choosing to end her life now than to let nature take its course.

I hope I made the right decision.

Rest in peace, Cocoa. You will always have a special place in my heart.


( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 15th, 2010 06:19 pm (UTC)
I have no idea what the afterlife is for cats. Or for humans, for that matter. I know, however, that you did the right thing by her.

And it will be awful missing her for quite a time to come, I expect.

And you did the right thing.
Feb. 15th, 2010 06:24 pm (UTC)
I don't think you have to worry about being forgiven. If ever a pet has known that she was loved, that everything done for her was done for that reason, then Cocoa knew. ::hugs::
Feb. 15th, 2010 06:44 pm (UTC)

In my own experience, the guilt never quite goes away, but it's a mark of how much you loved her - she would say that there is nothing to forgive.

You were brave and strong and did what she needed most. It's still going to hurt like hell to grieve for her, and I am so very sorry.
Feb. 16th, 2010 12:02 am (UTC)
Hey, you did the right thing. Really. She's not in pain, and she went peacefully and without being scared, knowing she was loved, warm, relaxed, and in your arms.

That's the way I'd choose to go, if I could choose. That she couldn't choose just means that you thought long and hard about what she enjoyed in life and did the best by her that you could.

Peace will come.
Feb. 16th, 2010 12:32 am (UTC)
I think it's a good end to a good life. I was just talking with my family about our old cat. She also lived to be over 18. My dad swore he saw her ghost in the house when he was dying of cancer. Good cats never die...
Feb. 17th, 2010 06:43 pm (UTC)
I'm so sorry about your kitty, Rach. It's never an easy decision to make, but I think you made the right one.

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )


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