the printed thoughts of a woman on a journey towards awareness, truth, acceptance, clarity, and forgiveness...with some fun and fearlessness thrown in

Sunday, August 1, 2010

24 hours

We have an appointment tomorrow morning at 10:30...just 24 hours from now. I didn't want to make an appointment. It felt like I would be sealing your fate and giving up on you. I didn't want to plan for your death, but I didn't want you to have to wait when your time had come. I called other vets and made contingency plans if you told me that you were ready and your regular vet couldn't see you right away. I even made arrangements with my boss to take time off without notice when the time came. I did all that I could think to do, all that made sense in a completely insane situation, all that my heart told me was right to do. When I noticed on Saturday that your good moments were growing more infrequent, I called and made the appointment. It made me sad to do it, but I felt like we would be taken care of if that was what we needed come Monday morning.

I was so happy on Saturday when you ate so readily and so often throughout the day, but this morning you are not interested in eating and my mind is beginning to reason with my heart. I've taken a hundred or more pictures of you already this morning. I know you're getting annoyed with me, but please be patient while I try to take in every last minute we have together. I know you don't understand what's going on, that you only know that you don't feel well. I want to explain to you how it's supposed to be, all that I imagined for you, and how angry I am that we are both being robbed by this disease. I want you to understand how much I love you, that I have done all that I can for you, and that I believe with all my soul that we will be together once again. I want you to know how much you were wanted, how we chose you from all the cats we looked at and met, and how we would choose you all over again...even knowing what we know now.

I don't know how long it will take me to be able to walk by the dining room and not look for you. I still sometimes look for Otis to be hiding in the back of Bennie's crate, and he has been gone for three years now. I still glance at the front window as I leave for work in the morning, expecting to see Manny watching me go, and he has been gone for a year. I can't imagine that as long as I live in this house I will be able to look into the dining room and not look for you. I can't even bring myself to clean the floor where your wet paws left little, clay-colored prints after a trip to the litterbox. I don't want to vacuum your hair off the chair where you used to sleep. I will look for you there. I will expect to see you come to the dish every time I walk through the doorway. I will miss seeing you lying on the window sill. The room will be empty and lifeless without you in it.

Today you are here with me. Tomorrow, you probably will not. I don't know how to deal with that. I guess I'll figure it out in 24 hours.


  1. My Dearest Shannon;

    Words fail me dear friend. I just know that I love you so. I am praying for you and your difficult situation. I honesty don't know which is worse, the knowing the day or not...this month last year I lost Gidget from the coyotes taking her from me right at my feet, and I wish I could say it gets easier, but you know as well as I do, it does not. I do know this, it is better to have loved and lost, than not to love at all. I am so touched by you and your words, I always have been, as I pen these words the tears are have made a difference in my life and I thank you for your taking a chance on me and developing the friendship we have. Take care my friend, take care. Fondly, Melody Ann

  2. You mean you have to put her down tomorrow? You think she has reached that point of being too sick? OH, I'm SO sorry : ( goodness, it totally breaks my heart

  3. Shannon, as I read this tears are running down my face....It is the hardest thing we have to do as pet owners, Just know that you are not will be in my thoughts and prayers. Hugs to you and to your precious baby...Joy

  4. Dear Shannon,
    My heart goes out to you and Alla. Having been in your exact position almost two years ago, it was the hardest/worst decision I have ever had to make in my life. For two days, I held Nemo over my heart, sending my love out to him, and letting his purr come into me. He was never a lap cat, so that made it more special.
    His blanket is still on the sofa, his perch by the window, and his urn on the mantle. There are times I swear I see him out of the corner of my eye.. hear him walking around upstairs... feel him jump onto the bed at night... and I cherish these moments, and know that he will always be with me. You will have these moments with Alla, too, because we love our pets as part of our family.
    Please know that you have many friends thinking and praying for both of you. Enjoy and treasure your time with Alla, and know how much she loves you, too.

  5. Shannon, thank you for sharing your most painful thoughts today. We need to hear them so that we can help cushion the pain for you, and the next time we face a loss to remember that someone else has suffered as much as we will be at that moment.

    I'll be thinking of you and Alla tomorrow morning, and your newly empty house.

    And I do hope that the brevity of your relationship may be continued later, that your spirits will meet again.


  6. shannon.... i wish there was something i could say to ease the pain even a little...

    your words make me fill with tears, and i can only imagine how you must feel... thinking of you

  7. Shannon,

    I really have no words... you always touch such a deep part of my soul.

    I will be holding you close today.

    much love and compassion, jackie