Still I'm Going to Miss You...

You had to know it was coming to this.

Ruby's back end shot out from under him one morning. He just kind of collapsed from the tail forward and lay there for a few moments not really sure of what was going on.
Then he sprang back as if nothing had happened and spent the next week as if nothing had happened. We still made an appointment at the vet for him.

He was taken in on a Monday. That weekend he began to get lothargic.

He was more so on the Monday. The vet commented that "neurologically, something ain't right with this cat."

Moreover he had lost almost two pounds since his last visit three weeks earlier.

He was put on meds that he hated. Fed food he ate less of every day, kept comfortable to the point of being carried from bedroom to garden, where he liked to spend the day outside.

He got slower and thinner. You could sense that he hated being picked up, hated eating and just barely endured laying around.

Medically we isolated the problem to his head. Everything else was working fine. That gave us the option of some sort of invasive cranial surgery. And that would be on an exploratory basis.

Chance of success: Minimal.

Probability of impacting quality of life: High.

Extension of life if EVERYTHING went well: Six months, tops.

We made one more vet appointment. The only creatures benefitting Ruby's being kept alive were the two footed ones who couldn't fathom the idea of life without this particular cat.

And yet we had to. It wasn't fair to him. He had a few days left and who knew what kind of pain he was in.

A good friend once asked me if I had ever felt uncontrolled rage. If I had felt so wronged that I would lash out at my perceived adversary blindly doing unchecked damage.

I told her at the time, no. Until the moment of his death. I felt a level of rage I had never felt before. I wanted to attack the world for the injustice of it all. I wanted to destroy the first thing that crossed my path. I had nothing to attack but myself.

Then it was over. We took the cat home and buried him in his favorite patch of flowers.

Helluva cat.

Over way too soon.

Life just got a whole lot less interesting.

Good bye Ruby.