A few weeks ago, our other baby, Nevada, was diagnosed with kidney disease. Jimmy and I were devastated, we never could imagine a time where she wouldn't just always be with us. We were hopeful that she would respond well to her treatments and could even possibly maintain a good quality of life for a while, except that she was having problems eating and staying hydrated. We had to up the amount of fluids we gave her daily as well as her other treatments.
Her loss of appetite ultimately caused her to lose too much weight to sustain. Two days before Jimmy's birthday last week, we accepted that we would bring her to the vet, and might not bring her home. I sat outside with her that day as she lay in a cool spot and told her stories of some of the wonderful memories I had of her in our family. When we brought her back to the hospital later that afternoon, our vet gave her us one last medication to try, but this past Monday we found out her bloodwork had come back extremely elevated for a kitty and her chances of survival didn't look good. He didn't want to give us false hope that she would recover and we discussed our options at that point.
We wondered if we could hold off making that last trip to the vet, just so Jimmy's birthday wouldn't just suck to high hell, and our vet told us that was fine, there was no urgency and to take an organic approach to bringing her in. He said she would let us know when it was time.
Well, wouldn't you know, the day before his birthday she started eating like a horse (went through about 4 cans of cat food) and was getting her energy back. She hung out with us on his birthday, and then my birthday, happy as a clam snuggled up on Jimmy's lap - her favorite place to be.
Around midnight on the night of my birthday, after I had gone to bed, she looked towards the door, got off of Jimmy's lap and went outside to go to the bathroom (or so Jimmy thought). Jimmy waited for her to come back until around 2:00 am before finally coming to bed.
We thought we had seen the last of her and our hope was that she found a quiet final resting place but we felt so empty, there were so many unanswered questions about her disappearance and we were just sad.
We both caught colds over the weekend and this past Monday evening were taking it easy, relaxing on the couch watching TV when we both heard a familiar meow. For two sick people, we couldn't have flown off that couch any faster if we were olympic sprinters and when we opened the door, there was our sweet little kitty, announcing that she was home.
We were in so much shock, we couldn't believe that she came home to us. We wondered how she survived four days away without food and fluids, the loud fireworks over the fourth, where was she that she couldn't come home before. In the moment, all we could think was that she was the most amazing, magical kitty to have survived that long outdoors in her condition, yet somehow make her way back home. She was even more skinny then when she left so we immediately fed her and she was ravenous. She ate and ate but still couldn't drink water on her own.
She had a rough night that first night home and hid underneath our shower curtain for most of the next day. We knew what we had to do. We brought her in to talk to a vet (her regular vet was out of the country) and ultimately decided to give her a peaceful transition into her next life - I hear cats have nine of them.
I know anyone who has had to make that choice to put their beloved pets down didn't make the choice lightly, it's a hard decision to make, even when you know it's the best one.
Some may not understand, and think things like she's just a cat. But anyone who has ever bonded with an animal knows how very much they become a part of your family. She was our family. She holds so many of our memories having been with us for eleven years when we adopted her at 3.5 years old. We were connected in a very real way and she was definitely Jimmy's kitty, no doubt about it. We used to joke and always say he was her mommy.
When the doctor put the catheter in her leg before the final procedure, she didn't fight it like she normally does when she would be at the vet. When I went in to say my final goodbye, she was lying down in such a relaxed state and looked completely at peace. I made a comment about this to the vet and she said she hadn't even given her anything yet and that cats sometimes just get a sense. I truly knew then that we were doing the right thing for her.
I believe she came back to us Monday evening to help us have some closure, so we would know she went peacefully with no unanswered questions and so we could be together as a family once more. I am so grateful that she found her way home to us one last time.
Today, it's hitting me a bit more. It's weird being here at home without her. We will miss her announcing herself coming through the door each day, curling up on our laps and sleeping with us each night, the way she followed us from room to room and hung out with Jimmy on Ginger Lounge while he would garden, her uncanny ability to always know which night we were roasting a chicken. We will even miss being annoyed that she is napping in Isabella's crib or on her clean laundry, jumping up on the table during dinner or doing something else she shouldn't be. There are so many endearing habits of hers that just became such a part of our lives, living here without her just won't be the same.
We will miss you, Nevada. You are always in our hearts.
*I am closing comments on this post, because I know it's hard to find words in situations like these and we know that our friends and family and those who read this are sending their thoughts and love. We know we gave her a good life and that she was happy and loved. We are feeling a bit sensitive right now and just need a bit of time to adjust to our new life without our first baby.
