20 March 09
Goodbye, Bella
On Friday morning, Andrew and I took Isabel in for what would be her final visit to the veterinarian. As usual she screamed and yowled, but her scream and yowl were muted and didn’t pack the viciousness that they’ve had for the previous 13 years of her life.
Starting last summer, she was diagnosed with a breast tumor that was cancerous but seemed self-contained. To reduce the risk that it had spread the vet removed the lymph nodes nearest the tumor and sent her home to recover. Six months later, just this past January, she was back in for another removal. I knew it was likely that if the cancer hadn’t yet started to spread it likely would. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon.
Shortly before Andrew left for Austin her breathing patterns seemed to change and her appetite decreased significantly. Now if you’d met Bella and if you knew her at her 18 pound weight, you’d know that Bella loved food so losing her appetite was a serious change. I bundled her up and took her in to the vet for an exam. The vet techs saw her on the table and gave each other the “Uh Uh! You can take her.” “Nope, I did it last time.” But there was very little meowing or swatting, she just wasn’t full of piss and vinegar like usual.
I knew as soon as I walked back into the exam room that the vet was going to tell me it was bad. His inner eyelids were red, and the smell of sympathy filled the small exam room. He started out by telling me what her films should look like and then began to explain why they looked differently. Her liver was half the size it should have been, which meant that her stomach was falling out of line. Her lungs, which should have appeared as solid dark orbs on the x-ray actually appeared as part dark and part light gray and even part white. “These are tumors”, he said as he pointed to the bottoms of her lungs and then reached for a box of Kleenex so he could hand me a tissue.
How much time do you think we have left? What can I do to make her more comfortable?
Chemo wasn’t even option I was willing to consider. Her body had been through too many surgeries in a short period of time. I just wanted her comfortable so she could rest and enjoy a few days or a week with Andrew, her favoritest person in the whole wide world. He told me the drugs may cause a miraculous recovery and she could have weeks, months, even a year. Or, they could be ineffective in which case we would have a few days, maybe through the weekend.
On Tuesday night, Andrew’s return made her happy, but she obviously wasn’t her typical self. She let him come to her, instead of greeting him at the door with a lecture about how wrong it is for him to leave her for hours and hours. On Tuesday night and Wednesday morning her appetite was much stronger, she seemed more alert and we were hopeful that things would be better. But by the time I got home on Wednesday night, she wasn’t doing as well. By Thursday afternoon it was painfully obvious that the drugs weren’t going to have their desired effect so we phoned the vet’s office and made an appointment. The staff at our vet’s office was wonderful and kind and sympathetic and understanding. And they not only made a horrible decision easier to make, but they provided the right amount of clinical fact with tenderness and understanding so we could mourn our loss of her
And now the house is quieter, we’re exhausted, Boos is unnerved and obviously missing her but being extra gentle with us. It’s hard telling what he understands and what he doesn’t. They had a very definite older sister/little brother dynamic and it will be interesting to see how he reacts to not having his foil around.
But between not having her purring constantly (she would purr every time she could see or hear Andrew, even up to the end) and not having her yell and scream almost constantly, the house seems empty and too quiet. Even though she loved me most when Andrew wasn’t around, even though her butt was always stinky, even though she was pushy and wouldn’t listen to me tell her “no”, even though she hated everyone we dared to bring in her home, I loved her very much. When Andrew wasn’t looking, she would paw at me and purr to get me to pet her. She would occasionally clean my wrist while purring to let me know I was part of her little pack. When she was sitting in the sun I would scratch her ears and get a soft meow and she’d pat at me when I tried to stop petting her. As if to say “I’ll let you know when you’re done, little lady.”
She was in charge and she let us know it. Even at the end. She refused to be taken away in the cat carrier. She wanted us to know that she was unhappy in the car. And she wanted each of the employees at the vet’s office to know that she still didn’t like them, even as they came in to say goodbye. But what she did like was having Andrew hold her and calm her. That is what she always liked. And thankfully we know what she liked just as much as we know what she didn’t like. So hopefully there is an open sunny window where she is now. I’d like to think that is where she is now.
Comments
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I’m very, very sorry about Bella. It’s so hard to say goodbye to an old friend like that.
— Kate on Mar 20, 10:52 pm
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seems like bella had a good long life, and i’m glad she got to share it with you and andrew. thinking of you both, it’s such a hard thing to go through. huge hugs from DC…
— kate.d. on Mar 21, 05:10 pm
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Oh, honey. I’m so sorry for you both. You and Andrew gave Bella a life filled with love, and that’s the best we can all hope for.
— amyc on Mar 21, 07:10 pm
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What a beautiful written post. As someone who has lost a pet I loved dearly…I am so sorry for both you and Andrew. What I do know? You guys gave Bella the best possible life any cat could dream of. She’s off bragging to the other cats in Kitty Afterlife :) Love you guys!
— Amy on Mar 22, 07:08 am
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I’m so sorry. It is so hard to lose a family member.
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i’m very sorry to hear this. it is such a difficult thing to go through. this is a beautiful tribute to her.
— tina on Mar 24, 08:49 am
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Gah. My sincere sympathies. Beautiful message (and picture). I had to do something similar a couple years ago with the world’s most perfect dog, Shiva, when she was only 7 years old. I keep her picture on my desk.
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