I put Bobthecat to sleep on Wednesday. He'd been slipping for a couple of weeks, so I knew what was coming, but I was still trying hard not to see what was in front of me. Then on Sunday night he came and said his goodbyes to me.
Bob was never hyperaffectionate. He would love to lie next to you and get petted, but he never was one for being picked up or for sitting in a lap. But on Sunday night when I sat down at the computer he stood up from the corner by the air conditioner where he'd been spending most of his time and hopped over to the desk. He rubbed my hand with his face, marking me as his. I skritched him and petted him and he purred and rolled around like a kitten for about fifteen minutes, then he suddenly stood up and went back to his corner and curled up. It was the last time we played together; I'm pretty sure it was his way of saying goodbye.
When I woke up Monday morning he'd retreated to the space behind my desk, curled up under the shopping cart in the corner. I pulled him out and set him next to his breakfast, but he only ate a few bites and went back to sleep.
That was the way of things for the next few days. On Wednesday morning when I picked him up for breakfast he let out a pitiful cry. He wouldn't even look at his food, he just wanted to go back to his corner and be left alone.Bob has lived with me for almost eighteen years and I know his moods as well as I know my own. I looked in his eyes and I could see he was begging me, "Please Daddy, I'm so tired. Can't I rest now?" Of course you can, Bob. I'm sorry it took me so long to get what you were asking....
I called Jane and asked to borrow her carrier. When she brought it down she took one look at me and offered to go with us. I'll never be able to thank her enough for that. Last year when Missy died it happened late on a Saturday night and the trip home from the hospital was the longest and loneliest I'd ever made.
We walked down to Vinegar Hill together, Bob in the carrier between us, talking about anything but what was going to happen. The day was late summer perfect, the sky achingly blue and clear, the sun so warm. I was glad Bob's last day on earth was such a beautiful one.
In the office Bob lay on a towel on the table in a cool, clean room after the doctor had examined him and explained our options and left us to discuss what we thought was best. Jane stroked his head and I put my hand on his shoulder while we talked, but there was really only one thing to do. Bob had had a great life, and it was time for me to perform one last kindness for him, the last one that's always the hardest one to do. I said to Jane that I knew it was the right thing, because doing it sucked. But I owed it to him, it was the last part of the promise I'd made to him, and to Missy and to Casey, when each one came to live with me. I promised them all that I'd do the best I could for them, give each of them the best life I knew how, and when the time came I'd do what I could to make the end of that life as easy as the end can be.
So Jane petted Bob's head and told him what a beautiful cat he was, and I held onto his shoulder and told him I loved him, while Dr. Neuman gave him first the valium shot that put him into a deep sleep, then the injection that stopped his heart and his breathing. He breathed out one last time and slipped out of his old tired pained body like the first soft breeze on a spring morning, into a better day.
I closed his eyes, and folded the towel over him even though he was no longer there, and that body on the table was just a beautifully still and silent reflection of the life it once held in it. Bobthecat, my gentle, playful, silly, loving chow hound of a cat, had already left the building. But even so, I patted his shoulder and whispered, "I'll see you later."
Jane and I walked back along Front Street holding hands, squinting in the bright afternoon sun, the empty carrier hanging weightless on my shoulder. The warmth of her hand in mine reminded me of life all around us, life still restless and always full of light and sound and feeling. When we got home Casey told us he wanted to go for his walk, now, and life had taken over again.
But later that evening I sat out on the front steps watching the stars and the clouds and enjoying the cool breeze, and I felt Bob's soul out there. He was dancing in the clouds,running and playing fast and easy, with no pain at all. He just wanted to let me know how good he was feeling. Then he was gone, and the night was just the night. And life was waiting, for me, for Casey, for Jane.
