In the words of my S.O's sister- take note: The following post is sad.
In case the title fooled you, Georgie shuffled off his mortal coil last August. It happened so suddenly...it was kind of a blur and shock. And then it wasn't. And then it was.
See...
A week or so before we went camping up North, Geo had been acting peculiar. Meaning, we were pretty sure he wasn't doing so hot. He was slow going. He wasn't jumping into bed or on the couch. He wasn't eating or drinking. Stopped using the bathroom. And moreover, did that awful things dying animals seem to love to do in order to act MORE pitiful in their last days- Finding a place to lay down and die.
Unfortunately for me, this was in my closet. And I'd be damned if I'd let that happen on my watch.
The Bean noticed too, and after a brief talk he agreed to vet it up. We aren't made of $, so I know his sadness at his kitties sickness was tempered with the fact that he wasn't able to do $1,000 vet bills like some owners can. And so, after an initial visit and return. (And the night before we were leaving) we had a note on the dry erase board. Nutshell- Say your goodbyes now. I was crying. I tried to get him out of my closet and into my bed. Moda and I took our turns saying farewell. And in the morning, after looking at the cat carrier sitting forebodingly on the porch we took off.
And, uh, then we started getting a flurry of texts the next day. "Hold tight, Geo in for observation"/"Geo getting fed intravenously"/"Geo unhappy, but spry". I had a feeling that after all that energy spent mourning, we'd be returning to a fat and crabby tabby. Which, after 4 days in observation, we got.
He seemed fine. Eating. Pooping. Sleeping in my bed and being his cantankerous self. We received this wonderful respite. He was his old self and we were glad. If not a little poorer.
And then he slipped back. I found him in my closet again. I put up books as a barrier to keep him from going in there. Bean noticed it too. However, fortunately (if you can call it that) this time our sadness and grief had morphed into a grim resignation. I mean, we cried so much. And Georgie was suffering. We could tell that much.
And so I heard the commotion on a Monday morning. I usually stay in my room w/the door shut while he's doing his morning business but the front door shutting and locking had a sense of finality. And about an hour later we got a text. "Geo was really sick. More details later. Put him down this morning". (It turns out he had kitty cancer of the most advanced state. The IV feedings gave him his strength back but it wasn't enough to keep him going)
And just like that...the food is donated. The litter. The toys are tossed. And I'll be really honest, I love my girl but I'm missing that hot and furry orange lump that'd wedge between us on the couch or in bed.
I miss my friend the cat. He felt as much mine as it was the Bean's. And as much as people have mentioned replacement, I don't think that I'm there right now.
Bye Georgie. We loved you a lot.
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