Boots

My cat, Boots, died at 6:30 on May 30th. Why is it so hard to lose a pet? And how on Earth, do you deal with losing two in less than two weeks? How do you cope with it?

I've lost pets before. A dog, Lady, 12 years ago (1999) and a few years ago we nursed an orphaned kitten, Zosha, that ended up dying. Then we lost Laddie on May 20th, only 10 days ago.

Boots was 17 years old.

I remember bringing him home for the store when I was nine. While we were driving home, he jumped out of his box into my lap. I grew up alongside this cat.

He was the only cat I knew who would let his owner carrying him on her hip like a baby. He would wrap his back paws around my hips, place his front paws on my shoulders and nuzzle my chin with his head and face. My baby.

Boots loved spinach and chicken. He would eat an entire chicken breast if he got the chance.

I watched him grow older. A few years ago it seemed as if was “on his last legs”, according to my mom. Then we got the kittens, Tigger and Oreo. Once they came into the picture, Boots seemed to get his second wind. He started doing things that he hadn't done for years. It was as if they had reminded him how much fun it was to be a cat.

And then, all of a sudden, around 7pm on April 21st, he started having trouble breathing. At first, it seemed like he was just trying to cough up a hairball and couldn't get it up. Then I realized that wasn’t really the problem. He was having trouble breathing, his tongue was hanging out of his mouth and he was drooling, his nose and lower lip looked bluish/gray and he was having trouble moving/walking. I didn’t know what to do. I though he might just have something stuck in his throat, so I tried to stick my finger in his mouth to see if I could feel anything. I couldn’t, it seemed clear. I sat for two hours that night petting him, and telling him how much I loved him.

Boots spent a week lying in our upstairs bathroom doing nothing but sleeping. He wouldn’t eat and he barely moved. Then he seemed to get a little better. He started eating a little bit and began moving between my parents bedroom, the bathroom, and occasionally managed to venture downstairs. A couple of days ago, he made his way downstairs and started the process all over again, varying between the powder room and under the kitchen table. At this point, we knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer, but it’s still so hard. I know that he’s in a better place (hopefully) and that his suffering is over, but now what? What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? How do I deal with the grief of losing Boots on top of the sadness I still feel over Laddie’s death? Anyone know of anything that might help?



R.I.P. Boots
March 4, 1994- May 30, 2011

Laddie

Laddie
April 14, 2000- May 20, 2011 

Monday, May 14th:
"He is terminal," said the vet.  "One of his kidneys is twice the normal size and they are barely functioning."  Laddie was in kidney failure and he probably had bladder or kidney cancer, or both.

Since he didn't seem to be in any pain my dad decided,  that he wanted to have a few more days with him before we put him to sleep.  We decided to wait until Friday, May 20th.(Which, coincidentally) is my aunt's birthday and the anniversary of my grandmother's death.)

Several months ago, my family and I started to realize that there was something wrong with Laddie. (In the back of my mind I always suspected cancer, maybe because of my history).  We noticed that he was almost constantly leaking urine.  He would get up from the floor and there would always be a puddle behind.  He didn't seem to even notice what he was doing.   And this was the dog that was housebroken in  a week and never had an accident in the house.

Initially the vet thought, or maybe just hoped, that he had an infection.  Laddie was on antibiotics for a few weeks, but they didn't help.  He then went to vet for blood work and a x-ray.  Which showed the vet how bad his condition was.  Poor Laddie.

Laddie was a good dog,  He loved carrots and stuffed animals.  He thought all cats were his friends and never seemed to understand why the neighborhood cats ran away from him.  He always looked upset when it happened.  His best friend was my cat Oreo.  From the day we brought Oreo home the two were inseparable.  I don't know how Oreo is going to react to the loss of his buddy.  He will be missed.

I Love You, Laddie.