Helping Him Cross

My last blog talked about poor sick Miles.  I said I wished the pets could speak. 

Miles couldn’t speak and could barely breathe.  It was up to me, as his human friend, to try and understand his body communication.  I tried all kinds of foods and he would turn his head away, or move further away with his head away from me to tell me he didn’t want (or couldn’t) eat.  All Miles wanted to do was sit on my lap and sleep.  He drank water but was losing weight rapidly and losing muscle mass.

A humidifier in the room seemed to help ease his breathing some but it was still very noisy breathing and it looked exhausting.  It had been 7 weeks since we returned and found him ill.  We had tried antibiotics, steroids and all kinds of food.   He wouldn’t eat and his nose discharge was now from both nostrils. 

On Friday night I held him.  When I got up to go to bed, he turned his nose into the corner of the sofa and slept.

The next day, March 30, 2013 (day before Easter Sunday) morning, I arose, and had breakfast with my husband outside in the sun.  I got Miles out from his hiding place and brought him out to the sun so he could smell the fresh air, feel the warm sun and walk a bit in the yard.  Then I told my husband we were taking him to the vet.  He had called and so they knew we were coming.  I held Miles in my arms wrapped in the sofa throw he slept on and did not use the pet carrier.  We took him into an exam room that was softly lit with a lamp; the exam table had a soft cushion on it.

Our favorite vet came in, upon our request, to assess him, as she had not been following his case.  She pointed out how exhausting it was for him to breathe.  Miles went to the door that led to the back rooms of the clinic and loudly meowed.  The vet said she absolutely thought it was time and we were being kind in euthanizing him.  I alternated between deep breaths and loud sobs, dry eyes and rivers of tears.  We asked that they sedate him first and said we would be present in his final minutes.  I just couldn’t send him into the back room for his last breath without me!  I told Miles “You are a good boy, you protected me, you never got up on the counters; you are so sweet. You aren’t going to get better.   It is BAD.  We want to help you cross over.” 

When they brought him back in, sedated, he was hyped up instead and she said sometimes that happens.  He calmed a bit.  We told her we were ready and as she began to inject the substance into his leg, I panicked and asked quickly “What will happen??”  She replied they just slump down and as she said it, that is what happened and I turned away, sobbing hysterically, into my husband’s arms.  I couldn’t stand that his beautiful green eyes would no longer look at me, I felt like a murderer, again (3^rd euthanized pet). 

Miles lay on the exam table, with some nerve tremors under my hands that soon calmed.  We stroked him and talked to him, both of us in tears.  The vet calmed us and said we absolutely did the right thing.  She saw him as uncomfortable and it was time.  She pointed out how peaceful his face was and said “Look, all the nasal passages have drained and it was horrible for him to try and breathe – he was sniffing it back in and swallowing it.  He had kidney disease and a tumor in his lung.  This was a kind act.”

We gave permission to cremate him and have his ashes taken with others to Mt Rainier. 

Simba is still mewing for Miles daily, 9 days later and seems sad.  We are sad.  No longer do I see Miles peering at me from my closet or come into my bathroom to see me from the closet.  I took away the rug that was in the closet for him to lie on.  We don’t hear his slight snores he made in healthier days as he slept in the cat tower in our bedroom, hidden behind a sheet because of his crazy fear of my husband.  I took down the "hiding" sheet.

My lap cat who took naps with me is gone, and Simba misses the older brother who kept him in line no matter how hard Simba tried to assert himself.  Miles was always the Master Fighter with Simba the student. Miles was never afraid of Simba.  The photo of him (Tabby) grooming Simba and of them playing was taken a couple of years ago.   The last photo below shows Simba grooming Miles, and was taken in the last few weeks of Miles' life.

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We all miss him terribly and hopefully our depression(s) will diminish quickly.  I talk to Simba and play with him to try and help him; but this joyful cat with a human sense of humor is obviously depressed and distressed that his “brother” Miles is not here and doesn’t come out when he calls for him.