After I signed the form, they showed me into the same room we always go into, except this time, there was an afghan over the table and a box of tissues. I could feel my heart fracturing in my chest. I put the kennel up on the table and convinced CJ to come out. He wasn't so sure, because there was a cozy afghan on the table. Interesting that the thing meant to add comfort made him unsure. It was a change from what he was used to though, so I suppose that is normal. Anyhow, the second he was out I picked him up and held him to my chest.
I was feeling very sick and my heart was pounding and I was very afraid that he would feel my fear and foreboding. I tried focusing on the things in the room. I read everything on the walls, analyzed the painting, analyzed the map on the back of the door, anything to distract myself so I didn't fall to pieces before the doctor even came in the room.
The Dr came in and we went through CJ's file. He explained how it was going to work. One thing I noticed, though, was that he didn't look me in the eye. I suppose I shouldn't expect him to look me in the eye. Actually I wanted no sympathy, no tenderness, no touching, no softness, because I was ready to crumble. He explained that first they give the cat a sedative, so that they are very relaxed and peaceful when they give them the final injection. The final injection has to be into an artery, which is uncomfortable for them, most animals get very upset when you put needles in their arteries.
He left the room, got the sedative and came back. I had to put CJ down on the table, this was hard. It wasn't hard to see him get the shot, because I give him a needle every day and he really doesn't seem to mind. It was hard to have him away from my chest, away from my heart. As soon as the doctor was finished I scooped him back up into my arms. The Dr explained that in the next 15 minutes, CJ should just fall into a peaceful sleep in my arms and then left the room.
I held CJ. He held me back. He put his little paws up on my shoulder and held on. He cuddled up to me as I was pouring all of my love into him. I rocked him and took deep breaths. I didn't read anything in the room. I didn't analyze the painting or the map. Instead I stared at a strange square on the opposite wall and loved my cat.
After some time, I have no idea how much, the Dr came to check on us. CJ was still fairly awake, but very relaxed, so he needed some more sedative. He said that his assistant would come in to administer it, while he was seeing some other patients. The assistant came in with these big eyes, looking all sympathetic and loving. I almost couldn't handle it. I needed to stay together. It would be more upsetting to my pet if I fell to pieces in front of him. I put CJ down on the table, on the comfy afghan and she gave him a shot in the bum. As sometimes happens with the sedatives (I was forewarned) the poor little guy got sick. It was hard to watch because he was so sedated that he couldn't really move. I put paper towels under his head, comforted him until he finally vomited, then whisked it away and wiped his little face. Poor little guy. Then the assistant left and I scooped him back up in my arms.
We did more rocking, although this time, I was the only one doing the cuddling. I could feel him softening and relaxing in my arms. I stayed standing. Now that I am a mom, I am a pro at the standing rocking movement. This is what I did. I sniffled and snotted and gently weeped. I still didn't want to "lose it" because my kitty was still there. Whether or not he was awake and whether or not he was aware of me and my presence, I wanted to be peaceful. Really I wanted to sit down and sob...but it wasn't time.
Finally, after what seemed like a long time, the Dr came back in the room. I had mixed feelings, part of me wanted to run...to take my sleeping kitty and run. The other part of me knew this was the right thing to do and stayed.
The Dr seemed a little flustered. I am certain this is the worst part of his job. He spends all day doing his best to save and improve lives, then he has to end one. He kept talking, saying things, I am sure they are meant to be comforting things, either to me, or to himself...but I wasn't really listening. He explained to me how to put CJ down on the table. This was hard because CJ was very relaxed and floppy.
Finally we got him situated in as comfortable a position as we could. I had to put his head straight and the Dr straightened his little leg. The Dr told me to hold CJ's head in a certain way, so I did. Then I squatted down and looked into his little eyes. Although he was well sedated, his eyes were still open. The Dr got the needle in place and then asked me if I was ready. I said "yes". He released the tourniquet and injected the fluid.
I breathed and looked into my cats little eyes. The pupiHe left me alone with my now deceased cat. As soon as the door shut I slid down to the floor and sobbed, as quietly as I could, but I released the sorrow that had been building for two days. After a little while, I stood. I looked at my little guy and he was really no longer my little guy. He looked strange. I straightened his fir, repositioned his paws and head so that he looked handsome and dignified, rather than floppy and scruffled. I gathered my things and left the office as quickly as I could. I practically ran out to my car, put the empty kennel in the front seat, got in myself, started the car and sobbed again. I was acutely aware that I was in a public parking lot, so I kept it fairly brief, gathered my wits and left. My family has a rule, no crying and driving, its dangerous.
This was my experience. I thought I would feel better for typing it out, but somehow...I don't. I feel a little empty. I didn't sob while typing. I got weepy, but not sobby... perhaps this is because I have been weepy all day. Perhaps it is because it is late and I need to get to bed. I don't know, but somehow I feel bad because I feel empty, not deeply grieving.
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