But in my heart I knew it: she was dying. As soon as I got home I rushed upstairs straight to her, I don't know if she could see me but she could hear - I said her name like I always do and she meowed. I started petting her head and she purred like a motor boat.
Eleven years. This cat has been with me for just over eleven years. She sleeps with me most nights and I spend large portions of the day with her on my lap or chilling nearby. I decided that no matter what, she wouldn't die alone. I'd be there for her to ease her as much as possible no matter how much it hurt.
My family kept up in the vain hope she'd poisoned herself and she'd be better in the morning, setting up her litter box/water/food bowl/warming blanket all in close proximity. I think all the light bothered her so she crawled into my brothers room under her dark bed. We set her up in there, encouraged by her activity, and everybody else went to sleep. 11:00.
Say what you will, there is a heaviness that settles on the human heart in the presence of death. I couldn't sleep, so I called up my girlfriend and distracted myself at some point. 12:00, 1:00, 2:00. Then at 2:30, I heard her meow - but it wasn't a regular meow, the meow was weak, scared, and pierced my heart with one thing: I'm alone. I'm scared. I'd heard both before, but never in the same wail. I put the phone down, went into my brothers room, and carried her into my room up onto the bed she slept in so often. I made sure she was comfortable in the heating blanket, slowly talked to her to sooth her, and gently stroked her. I softly murmured her name so she knew I was there.
She started breathing choppily and heavily, occasionally falling out of consciousness and awakening with that meow. More than once I was ripped from sleep, any breath could be her last. I kept murmering her name, but silent tears wet my pillow.
This continued until closer til 4 or 430 am, when suddenly she awoke and reached her paw up to set it on my face. In one of her rare lucid moments, she looked straight at me. I said her name, held her, and she hoisted herself up into my arms. The effort caused her to pass out but from this point, whenever she woke up, she didn't meow.
Her breathing slowed and became deeper, and I was given hope. She was fighting with everything she had. Slowly, I drifted off until my mom woke and came to check on her around 5am. When she heard us talking, she meowed weekly as if to say "hi! I know you're there!" I drifted off on the fragile wings of ignorance. At 5:30 I jerked awake - her breathing had become harsh and I knew something was up. I ran off to get my mom, and we both came up to her.
Slowly, her breathing became more and more shallow until 6am rolled around and my dad came in. The entire time I kept repeating her name, and slowly I descended into tears. My mom was in a similar place. We were with her. At around 6:10, her regular breathing stopped. My dad, a doctor, felt her pulse. Every now and then she'd gasp in another breath. At 6:15, she completely stopped breathing. Her heart kept pounding for nearly two minutes after, and I couldn't help but shout her name and shake her while tears rolled down my face.
What happened next was her eyes glazed over and she started contorting in agony, her body moving in unnatural ways. Her mouth opened wide as if to scream, and then she fell onto the bed, still. I just sat there and cried silently while trying to keep it together in front of my parents.
After that, I couldn't sleep. I've lived a gentle life, and this is the first time I've seen somebody so close to me die in an agonizing, traumatic way. Despite missing an entire night of sleep and a scant 6 hours the night before, I couldn't sleep. I thought the whole "flashback to an awful moment thing" was just in movies, but every time I closed my eyes to sleep I relived the night until her final agonizing moments. I saw her, I saw it happen all over again until...she just remained there on the bed. The only thing between me and the truth of reality was mindlessly going about tasks and watching netflix until work. I barely kept it together, came home, pushed myself through another one of these workouts in the final week of insanity.
Now I'm here. I would journal, but I need feedback. No I don't, I just need to tell the whole story and confront it. I've talked with my mom, my girlfriend, some closer coworkers, but this is for me.
The part that hurts the most is how hard she fought to keep living, how hard she tried until the very end - she wouldn't accept death. It just came and ripped her away from me. I take solace in the fact that she genuinely loved her life in my house so much she didn't want to leave.
I can't ever know, but I hope she was aware enough to know that I was there with her the entire time. The worst part was the powerlessness, there was nothing I could do to ease her pain or help her. Despair, I was truly despairing
Even now, I can't sleep or close my eyes. I'm going to watch a movie until exhaustion, then wake up again early tomorrow and work another double. I'm sorry for such a depressing blog. Writing this, I hope, will help, but all that remains is sadness beating at me like waves from the ocean. I've bared my soul, and I still bear horror at the nature of my cat's death.
Even though she was an annoying as hell sometimes, I truly loved that damn cat. I have no regrets about her life day in and day out over the past 11 years, but the nature of her death has affected me in a deeper way I haven't resolved. Even now, I'll glance at imaginary movement out of the corner of my eye hoping to see her there. I've never truly given a shit about religion before if it didn't have immediately practical and beneficial effects for me or somebody else, I don't care what you believe, I want you to feel joy and be happy now and after. That's me before, I'm the same now.
I love you, Rexi, I miss you. I'm so sad you're gone so suddenly. I hope you're still there, somewhere, happy. I hope you're the cat who went to heaven.