In 2009, a sweet little cat appeared on my porch and stayed there. It took six months to gain her trust and I finally got her to come inside. Porch Kitty became Pique and she was a lovely maine coon, with lynx tip ears and tons of personality. She was very skittish with everyone but me. I didn't know anything about her, but less than 2 years later, she stopped eating and started hiding. She turned out to be significantly older than the vet and I had first thought and was about 15 years old. She was now riddled with cancer, so Pique broke my heart in March, 2011 (the day after my birthday). Ironically, when Pique appeared to me, I thought she was there to cushion the blow over what would be my biggest pet heartbreak to date, which happened today.
Sid, the other half of the Sid and Nancy pair I adopted in 1993, has been with me through a lot. He's been with me for 20 years -- half of my life (give or take). Sid has been slowing down in recent months and I have been worried about him for at least a year. Regular vet visits and daily medication and on paper he was in really good shape for an old man. I had been out of town for a few days and my neighbors were taking care of Sid for me, giving him his daily tuna and dose of meds. I'd checked on him while I was gone, and they'd told me he was being Sid, doing fine.
When I got home yesterday, I noticed something was wrong. His back legs weren't working very well. As always, when I would come home, he'd want to get up from his chair and come and talk to me. He struggled to get out of the chaise. I sat with him and snuggled him and he eventually got down and wobbled his way to follow me to the kitchen. I noticed a significant change in his gait and noticed his back legs were splaying outwards and he was dragging his feet. I called the vet, made an appointment for the next day, to see what was going on. I had dinner plans with a friend, so I got Sid a drink of water and headed out to meet up with my friend. When I came home later, Sid had changed again. In addition to his back legs splaying outward, his right front foot looked broken. It was flopping around and no longer able to bear any kind of weight. He could barely walk. I carried him to the kitchen for a drink of water and got him settled back on his chair. I realized what was happening. Sid was breaking my heart. His chirps and purrs to me were telling me that it was time to go. He tried to get up again and got down off his chair. He kept falling. Meowing. Looking at me. I couldn't just sit there and watch that, so I scooped him up and off we went to the emergency vet. To make a long story short, Sid's health had been significantly compromised. Suspected blood clots, a known heart murmur, loss of mobility with 3 out of 4 limbs and blindness (in addition to the fact that he'd been deaf for 2 years and that he was 20 years old) and the vet said I had some decisions to make.
This is the part of a pet owner's life that everyone dreads. I cried a lot, realized what I had to do and started the process of saying goodbye to my sweet baby, the cat that had been with me for 20 years. He stayed in my arms and went very quickly and peacefully. I managed to get the car home without hitting anything and then allowed myself the freedom to cry. In many ways, Sid's passing is more than just the loss of a pet. He represents the first part of my adult life. I adopted him going into my senior year of college. To help in my grieving process, I wanted to look at the lessons that Sid has taught me, beyond the years of unconditional love and trust that he gave me.
- Take a risk -- Sid was with me when I got my first "real" job out of college. A job that would take me to three different offices and two different states. When I was promoted and asked to move to Chicago, Sid fearlessly sat in the carrier as I loaded up my 24-year-old life into my 1990 Honda Accord and drove to Chicago for the first time. He slipped out the window of my new apartment the first night and I completely freaked (a stunt he also pulled as a kitten, falling out a third story window and not getting hurt). I found him wandering around our new backyard and he came trotting up the stairs as soon as I called him.
- Share -- Sid was all about sharing. He loved to share my spot on the couch. He loved to share the bed (and slept against my foot until about a year or so ago, when he was no longer able to jump onto the bed). He loved to share my food and felt completely entitled to sample whatever it was I was eating or drinking. I learned to never leave my coffee cup unattended or a glass of water. One paw in the cup or glass to get a closer look and I'd hear a "thunk" and have to go get the paper towels.
- Try new things -- As part of Sid's sharing campaign, I learned that he liked chicken, steak, fish, any kind of bread, but especially pizza crust, most any kind of cheese, balsamic vinegar, tomatoes, potatoes, and most any kind of dairy (including, but not limited to yogurt, milk, sour cream and whipped cream).
- Love without agenda -- Sid had no great agenda for me. All he cared about was that I came home each day and gave him his tuna every morning, turn on the tub for a big drink of water and provide ample cuddles and snuggles whenever he wanted. In return, I had a little presence in my life that never judged my waistline, or what kind of day I had. Sid was just happy to see me and tell me about his day.
- Decisions are hard -- When it comes to decisions, ultimately, it is YOUR decision. No one can make choices for you. And in the end, you need to be at peace with the decisions you make. This was Sid's hardest lesson for me. He told me in his own way that he was ready to move on. He waited until I got home from my trip and then showed me how hard it was getting for him. But, it was up to me to make the decision I had to make in his best interest. I have a feeling I will be crying for quite a while over my rumply little cat, that sweet soul that wanted nothing more from me than unconditional love. In time, my heart will open to another sweet soul, but there's a spot that Sid will always occupy and I know he'll never be far away.
