Rachel …
Over the years, you were by my side. You kept me warm in the winter and comforted me when I was sad. You cuddled against my head by sleeping on my pillow even this morning. You woke me up asking for more food. You showed me your love in more ways than I can count. Sometimes you confused me. Sometimes entertained me. Sometimes I got angry with you and sometimes you got angry with me. We never stayed that way. We shared good times and bad.
Over the last two years, I’ve worried and stressed about the best way to take care of you, the best way to make sure that you were comfortable and happy and fed. It wasn’t easy. Sometimes I thought you had more problems than any animal or person should ever have to deal with. But we both plowed through it to live and love another day. I always knew, though, that there would be tough times ahead.
It was a week ago today that I could see that our time together was winding down. I told my girlfriend that I’d be surprised if you lived to see my birthday next month. Then, only three days later, you took a dramatic turn for the worse. You became more frail, your tumor had grown to the point that you had trouble walking. You weren’t eating much, even your favorite food in the whole world (tuna). You struggled to jump up on the couch. On Sunday night, I laid in my bed, terrified that I’d awaken to find you gone. Once again, you made it through.
But things weren’t getting better. The tumor wasn’t going to just go away. You clearly were not happy. The carefree days were gone. I knew that it was time. So I decided that you were to live your last days as a princess. I would give you the best food I could, what little you would eat. I realized that it isn’t the end of the world if you can’t make it to the litter box. But mostly, I just wanted to enjoy my time with you, give you all the love I had, and show you how special you are to me. I even made sure to take one last picture yesterday so I’d always remember it. Friends even came by to see you one last time, to show you that you were special to them, as well.
This morning, you slept on my pillow as I continually hit snooze, hoping the day wouldn’t start if I just didn’t wake up. I let you drink out of the bathtub faucet and you got soaked! You loved it. I dried you off and put you in your little bed on the couch and you slept with a huge smile on your face. It was great to see that, despite your obvious discomfort, you were able to find a little bit of happiness.
Then, the time came and two kind women came to our home. They explained to me what would happen and I couldn’t hold back the tears. I cried as they sedated you. I cried as I said goodbye. I cried as you left me forever. And I cried as I watched them take you away from me, knowing I’d never hold you again. And now, I cry even as I write this letter to you, only two hours later.
I hope that you have found peace. The peace you deserve. I hope that you have found comfort. The comfort that age and illness and taken from you. I hope you have found rest.
I love you, Rachel. I will always miss you.