What is This Feeling...?

I haven't had to deal with grief for quite a while, and I will admit that the loss of our cat, Clover, has taken its toll on me. 

Clover Under the Christmas Tree, 2011

Clover passed away from lung cancer on Friday, December 13th. 

Since her diagnosis at the beginning of December, I've felt this cloud hovering over me, sucking the light and the joy out of everything around me. Why bother putting up the tree? Why bother making Christmas cookies? Why bother going Christmas shopping? I stopped caring about all of this, choosing to wallow in my sadness and pain, wrapping it around me like a blanket so that I can hide from the world. 

Image Credit: Can't Find Artist - Shout out if you know who it is! 

I'd put up our tiny Christmas tree and some decorations, because we wanted to make Clover's last Christmas as bright as it could be. But there was no joy in that for me. It felt like an obligation, going through the motions, because it was something that had to be done. I avoided Christmas music, because there was no joy in my heart to sing about. 

But what really brought me to my knees, and made me want to write this post was our employee Christmas party at work. I'm the person who is always on the party committees, who helps plan birthdays and baby showers and retirement parties, and yes, the Christmas party. I loved it, I was like the Monica Geller of the company. 

As I stood in the elevator at work a few days before Clover passed, I was actively MAD at the thought of a Christmas party. Like, how dare they all have fun while I am suffering with this sadness! I didn't want to go, but (like Monica), I'm a people pleaser, and the boss had closed the office for the party, so I had no good excuse not to go. 

As soon as I got there, I knew it was a mistake. Everything that I would normally love in other years, like laughing coworkers, or decorated spaces, or fun games, or someone winning Employee of the Year, I hated... I found myself scowling, like actually scowling, at people at my table. I buried my nose in my phone, blankly staring at a game of Solitaire, to avoid making eye contact with anyone. People would come talk to me and I'd be very short and curt with them, instead of being my typical outgoing self. Some people noticed, most didn't. None of them asked if anything was wrong.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was two-fold (two-strawed?)... I mentioned in a previous post that I was working on a huge project with a deadline. Our boss stood up and thanked my project teammate (from another department) for working so hard on that project. That's it. He didn't thank anyone else. Just Bob. Everyone clapped. Cool, let's eat. 

Even Clover can't believe that bullshit...

I was just so. fucking. done. I didn't care. I was probably a single conversation away from tears at that point - not from sadness, but from anger, and stress, and melancholy, and just all of it. I moved to a different table (closer to the door, so I could bolt at the first chance), and I was just bullshitting with Bob when our Big Boss came in for the typical glad-hand, look how awesome we are pep talk. I chatted with another person at the table, while Bob kept elbowing me. I turned to look at him (which was in direct eye-sight of the Big Boss) and said quietly, I don't fucking care about any of this shit, Bob right at the same time Big Boss thanked me for all of my hard work on the big project. It was like some scene out of a bad movie... I was pissed and seconds away from tears and I know damn well that the boss could read my lips, and yet everyone was turning around to look at me and clap for me...  All I could muster was a little wave and a smile. It turned out that Bob had gone over to the Big Boss and told her that I had done the lion's share of the project, and it wasn't right to not acknowledge that in front of everyone. 

I turned to my boss and said that I needed to get the hell out of there... She was aware of not only Clover's passing, but also all of the medical issues for the past six months, and could see that I was overwhelmed. I'm so thankful for her being so understanding. 

Later, when I got home, I had a small breakdown with hubby, trying to explain to him how I was feeling and how much I hated how I felt and how unfair it was, and after a good hug and cry session, we decided that we would skip gifts this year. Neither one of us are in the Christmas spirit, neither of us had done any shopping... We would just let this Christmas roll over us quietly, and just enjoy our day with my mother when she came over. No stress. Just family and love. I think that's exactly what we need. 

May we all find the level of peace enjoyed by a sleeping cat

...But That Time Has Come to an End

June 2010 - December 2024

She’s gone. 

Wednesday was really the turning point of going from A Cat with Cancer that Will Kill Her to being A Dying Cat. Hubby was home on Tuesday and Wednesday, so he spent both days in the living room with her. She was energetic enough to sit on the arm of the loveseat so that he could pet her.  

We took her to bed on Wednesday night, and after a few hours, she jumped down from the headboard and trotted over to the treadmill, and she looked like she was looking for a spot. Cat owners know what this means… Cats are very private creatures and look for places to die where they won’t be an inconvenience. So, we thought she was doing that. Hubby followed her around, but then she jumped up onto the shelf in front of the treadmill, where I had a stack of folded laundry. She proceeded to pee all over them. Honestly, I wasn’t even mad – we hadn’t seen her pee in forever! Once she was done, we just cleaned up after her and got her back to the bed. She didn’t have any issues after that, and both of us took turns throughout the night reaching out to pet her and check on her. 

Thursday was a terrible day, because Hubby and I both had to go to work, and Clover would be stuck home alone. Thankfully, we have an indoor security camera, so every so often, one of us would pull up the app and check on her (we did this previously throughout the past week, too). Her breathing was becoming so shallow that there were times when we couldn’t see her move at all. She was still with us when we got home, and as we ate dinner. We moved her to bed with us and watched TV for a few hours. 

I’d been asleep for maybe an hour when she fell off the headboard, right onto my head and shoulder. She scrambled down to the end of the bed and stayed there for a few minutes, gasping. Hubs and I woke up fully and calmed her down. Her blanket was wet (she must have peed again), as was my pillow and the foot of the bed. He swapped out to a fresh blanket while I took care of the pillow, and then got her set up again on the headboard. Within a few minutes, she fell again, right between our pillows. And she didn’t move. I put my hand on her chest and it wasn’t moving. 

She'd finally given in. 

Hubby, who had gone to the bathroom, came back in and saw how I was kind of leaning over the pillows, and said something like give me a minute and we can get her back up on the headboard and I said, no, I don’t think we need to. Even with my back to him, I could feel the weight of those words hit him, and he came around the bed to her. We pet her for a few minutes, thanking her for her life, and telling her that we’d miss her, and that she was such a good girl, and then he picked her up and took her to lay on her blanket by the living room window. 

Friday was miserable. He stayed home, using Bereavement Leave to stay home from work for the weekend. Unfortunately, I had to go in because there was so many things I had to do before a mega-important deadline. Clover was still on the blanket when I got up in the morning (of course, where else would she be?) and as I pet her, realism set in; she was already cold and stiff, really driving home that this was a dead cat, not a sleeping cat. 

It was hard to keep my head on straight as I worked on spreadsheets, but I was able to leave work early, getting home around 2. Hubs had covered Clover with a second blanket, tucked in like she was taking a little nap. We buried her in the side yard, near our bedroom, the opposite side of the property from where we buried Salem. We feel surrounded and protected by both of them. 

Christmas will be quiet and small and melancholy this year. But I’m so very thankful that hubby talked me into decorating. It was always a favorite time for her, and I can still feel her here, among the flickering candles and colorful lights of the tree. 

People who’ve not had pets, people who’ve never loved their pets as a member of their family, they can’t quite grasp how difficult this is, and even I, who love my pets, can’t quite grasp why this is this difficult. You want to shrug and say It’s just a cat but it’s not… It’s so much more than a pet. It’s 14 years of friendship and dead mice and snuggles and meows and stinky cat food and head butts and belly rubs and chases and scratches and purrs and finger licks and unconditional love. 

So as I said earlier, we will, one day, honor her memory by rescuing other cats, as we rescued her, but that won’t be right now. The pain is too real, too fresh… We need time to sit with our grief and feel our feelings and let them settle into a dullness, all the sharp edges rubbed off of them by time. 

Goodbye, my beautiful girl. 

You were such a loved and treasured part of this family, 

and your loss will be felt in innumerable ways within our home, 

now with empty windowsills and unprotected spaces. 

(ETA... I'm actually posting this on December 26th, because every time I come to post this, I just can't... It's like closing a door on her and finally letting go, and even 2 weeks later, I'm not ready to let go yet. I'm sitting here, typing with my eyes closed, with tears running down my face... I can't hit publish because that is the ultimate "It's Over" moment of this whole thing... This is probably the written  version of people who film themselves crying on TikTok, haha... but dammit, I just can't do it...)

Well, Maybe There's a *Little* More Time?

We must have an Energizer cat, you guys… She just kept on keepin’ on!

For the past few days, she’s been the Queen of the Castle, curled up on her warm blanket by the window, just existing. For the most part, her breathing is the same, but if she tries to groom or rearrange, she’ll get tired and out of breath easily, which means she ends up gasping for air because  she can’t keep up. 

We’ve been able to snuggle with her a few times, and it’s so hard to feel her this way. She’s so bony and skinny. She’s so lethargic and weak. She’s a shell of the bright and energetic cat she was just a few months ago. 

Over the weekend, I told Hubby that I didn’t even want to do anything for Christmas; no lights or tree or anything like that, and he talked me into it, because Clover has always loved the lights and the candles and how magical the house was this time of year. So our tiny tree is out, and some of the candles, and he was absolutely right to talk me into this. Since I put the tree up, Clover spends the majority of her time facing the tree. It kind of makes everything feel normal, both for her and for us, and we’ve been spending a lot of time in the living room with her, just reading or zoning out. She deserves to be surrounded by love and family, instead of dying slowly alone while we chill in our own individual spaces staring at a computer. 

Last night, we began taking her to bed with us; we put a cozy blanket up on the headboard that will keep her scrawny body warm and comfortable, and she’s content to watch over us and protect us, as best she can, while we sleep. 

I don’t know how much more time she has, but I have my doubts that she will make it to the weekend (it's currently Wednesday, December 11th). Her breathing has become much more labored. She’s not eating. She’s not drinking. She’s simply existing at this point. We’ve begun telling her that she’s brave, and that she doesn’t have to fight, and that she can go, and I’m hopeful that she understands what that means, and goes soon… watching her struggle is breaking my heart. 

You Always Think There's More Time

After our previous cat passed away 20 years ago, I didn't think that I wanted another cat. Salem (said previous cat) hated me - he'd pee on my side of the bed, an hour or two before bed time so that when I got in bed, it was not only wet, but cold, too. 

But in 2010, just a few days after my mother-in-law passed away (a notorious Cat Lady herself), I started hearing little niggles in the back of my head, it's time to get a cat, get a cat, you want a cat, go get a cat. I started 'shopping' the websites of local shelters, seeing what cats were out there, and if any of them called to me. There was a beautiful black Bombay in our local animal shelter, and that was the cat that I wanted. 

He didn't want me, though! When I went to go see him, he turned his nose up at me, walked to the back of his cage, and ignored me the entire time I was there. Defeated, I went home. A few hours later, with husband and kiddo in tow, we went back to the shelter to look for a different cat. There, over in cage #7, was this quiet little black and white shorthair kitten just peeping at us from behind the door. I don't think that she was there earlier in the day, or I would have remembered her. She didn't meow super-loud, or swipe at me, or anything. She just made quiet eye contact, and I knew, I just knew, this was My Cat. We adopted her immediately, left her there so she could be spayed (she was only a few months old) and we brought her home a few days later. 

Lucky #7, she found her Forever Home 

I can't even remember her being so small

She settled in and grew to be a very stoic, quiet cat. She was never a Cuddly Cat, or a Lap Cat, or a Vocal Cat. She was a Protector; she would always position herself in the home where she could see where all three of us (and later, just the two of us) were at all times, and usually between us and the front door. She would stay in the living room at night and sleep on top of the love seat so she could assess the inside and outside situations and keep watch. She has led a very peaceful life here for 14 years. 

One of the very rare times she spent time in my home office

She much preferred the sunshine and comfort of the windowsill

Over the past few months, Clover has been dealing with a recurring infestation of fleas. We think that the neighborhood feral cats have been the cause of this… Clover likes to go outside when she can sneak by us and let the grass tickle her belly. I would assume that the stupid fleas come in on our shoes and socks and pants legs when we walk from the car to the house. And once they’re in, they’re a bitch to get rid of! We’ve had to bathe her a few times, and give her some Capstar pills (amazing magical pills!). 

Throughout all of this, Clover continually retreated to her Safety Space, on the living room windowsill. Over the past few weeks, it seemed like she was still having a hard time. She’d fall asleep on the windowsill (in her quest to stay away from the fleas) and end up toppling over and landing on the bookshelf underneath. She landed on my plants enough times that I had to move them. It got to the point (it seemed) that she was so addicted to her safety space that she was refusing to even come down for food. The whole time, we’d kept an eye on her and it seemed that – besides the anxiety – she was doing okay. She’s suffered from anxiety before, so this wasn’t really anything new.

 

She loved these window sheers; it was like her hiding space

About two weeks ago, though, we noticed that she was “coughing,” similar to trying to get rid of a hairball, but with no puking sounds. She didn’t do it but once or twice a day, so we just kept an eye on her and gave her extra snuggles. Last week, her ‘coughing’ got worse, to more like three or four times a day, and we noticed that she was breathing heavily, even when just laying down. I also began to notice how slight she was… She’s always been a big cat (topped out at 18lbs at one point), but I could feel her spine and hip bones, and I began to worry. I weighed her and she was under 10 pounds. When we put it altogether (the Safety Space, the lack of appetite, the trouble breathing), we realized that something was really wrong and that it was time for a vet visit. 

Internally, I thought it’d be something simple, like bad teeth that didn’t allow her to eat solid food, or complications from the stupid fleas. 

Oh, how I wish it was that. 

After we told the vet all of the problems, they kept her to do some bloodwork, a physical exam, and an x-ray. Even as we drove home, we were both tentatively optimistic that it would be something easily fixable. 

And then the vet called. 

Clover is anemic, but worse… her lungs are full of nodules, and there is fluid in her chest cavity surrounding her lungs. 

She has Lung Cancer. 

The irony is not lost on me. I quit smoking three years before she was even born. I always worry that I will die of lung cancer. But no… my cat is going to die of Lung Cancer. 

There’s not enough fluid in her chest to risk draining it (too stressful for her, in her current condition), and with her history of heart murmurs, there’s no reason to chance it. There’s nothing that an Oncologist can do for her. There’s no medications that can fix her. 

I was given the suggestion that it will happen soon, probably within a week. They suggested putting her to sleep, of course, even saying that it could be done that day, but we opted not to; we wanted to bring her home to pass on here, where she would be safe and loved and cuddled. 

I thanked her for the call and then had to compose myself to go tell Hubby the news. This is a man that feels all the feelings, and feels them so strongly, that I knew this was going to be difficult for him. And it was. I told him what the vet told me and we both had a good cry, then put on our game faces and went to get our baby. I told him that he needed to keep his shit together for the both of us, because I couldn’t be bawling while we drove down the road. 

Thankfully, he was able to stuff it down, but as we drove, I just had tears rolling down my face. I was doing my best to keep it together and not outright bawl, but then I’d think… she’ll never drive down this road with us again, she’ll never smell all the smells in this area, she’ll never be scared of the big truck over here. This was her last car trip home. 

At the vet, we had to wait about 15 minutes for the vet to come out to us, and for safety reasons, we had to do the one thing that she hates the most… we had to put Clover in her cat carrier. Over her 14 years, we’ve only used the carrier for emergencies (she hates boxes and enclosed spaces), but the vet was adamant. As soon as we were in the car, we pulled her out and deposited her right on Hubby’s legs, as that is how she prefers to ride. 

Any time she was in the car, she rode like royalty

She was relatively perky on the way home, big eyes full of wonder, looking around at all the things, smelling all the smells, just like always. She ambled out of the car and took her sweet time walking through the yard, feeling the brown grass on her belly and nibbling on the fallen leaves. Once inside, she was able to hop up onto the arm of the loveseat right near the door so that we could take off her harness and leash while Hubby turned on the heating pad we’d set up for her, under a fluffy blanket. We got a tube of Delectables (what we lovingly call “Cat Gogurt”) and squeezed it out onto a plate for her, and she was able to eat that while laying down (we gave her some regular wet food a few hours later and she’s eaten that, too). 

We had to break the news to The Kiddo, and she took it much better than expected. Maybe because she was at work or only half-awake, I don’t know. It’s hard to break bad news over text message, but that’s how The Kidz do things these days. I feel that, in a few days, when we tell her that Clover has passed, it will hit her for real. 

So now it’s been a few hours since she’s come home and Clover is the Queen of the Castle on her big fluffy blanket atop a heating pad, with food delivered directly to her on one of my “good plates” that we only use for holidays. I think this is an absolutely acceptable exception to that rule. We tried to pick her up to snuggle, but that made it harder for her to breathe, so we can only pet her and love on her while she lays down. 

There is a heating pad tucked under the blanket she's laying on

I honestly don’t know if she’ll make it through the weekend (today is Tuesday, December 3rd). I have two hopes, and they are at war with each other… One hope is that she passes while both of us are here with her, so that she doesn’t die alone, that she passes on surrounded by love, and that he and I can grieve together. But the other hope is that she passes while Hubby is at work, so that he will be spared the final moments of emotional pain, or that she passes while we are both asleep, so that he will not have to bear witness to her last moments as she gasps for air and finally gives up… No matter what happens, I hope that she just drifts away and passes in her sleep peacefully, with no pain or stress or fear. 

And after she passes, we will bury her beneath the same tree that we buried Salem, almost 20 years ago, where she can be nearby to protect us, to watch over us, and to know that we will forever love her.