Yesterday, I had my cat killed. The cat died from the shots, and I was just about to leave the room where the body lay, when I made a mistake: I kissed her. Then, instead of leaving, I fell down in a chair and started crying. I couldn’t help myself. The veterinarian said: “Take your time, there’s no hurry”, and went out. She was very professional and very compassionate. Her name and accent made me believe she’s from Holland. The cat’s name was Artemis. She was eight years old and very, very beautiful.
When I was a child we had a dog, a german shepherd, grey and black. Her name was Reina. She was the kindest dog you could imagine. She was born the same year I was, so literally I grew up with her. I’m the youngest son of three. At eleven, I found that my brothers had grown out of the pleasant world of fantasy, and it made me feel a bit lonesome.
I retreated to the dog. I began taking long walks with her and so forth, and I remember my daddy saying: “Wakinyan, you shouldn’t grow so attached to the dog now when she’s getting old.”
My father often told me such things, and now that I am in the age he was then, I believe that he tried to save me some disappointments in life.
Of course I didn’t pay much attention, quite the opposite, the dog slept in my bed each and every night. I also had loads of teddy bears, so it was pretty cramped, but a sacrifice I was prepared to make.
But there were this particular night when she didn’t wanna get up into my bed. I always suffered from a slight insomnia, so this was in the middle of the night and only she and I was awake, and there was no way I could sleep if she behaved in this unusual way. In fact she seemed worried, which of course was unusual. I asked her to get up in the bed and get to sleep, and at last she did.
But then she jumped down again. I didn’t like this much, because quite obviously she was worried about something. “C’mon Reina”, I said sleepy, “get up here so both of us can get some sleep.” She did. I nearly fell asleep, it was very late now, but then she jumped down again, went out in the kitchen (which I could see from where my bed was). She walked around a bit, as if she was expecting someone to be here any minute now. I sat in my bed and looked out from the room, and now I too was worried. Not upset, just a bit uneasy, and very tired, and I remember clearly when she sat there in the kitchen and looked at me, ears and eyes on alert, though calm, and I sat in my bed and looked at her.
I didn’t want to leave her right now, but I was so tired. With a deep feeling of sadness, I said: “Goodbye, Reina”, lay down and fell asleep. I woke up with my father on my bedside saying Reina died this morning.
I came to think about this now, about twenty-five years later, when the time has come for my cats to leave. I really love cats, always have, and as a matter of fact, we had a cat when Reina lived, and I almost ever since I have had at least one cat.
Eight years ago I lived alone and during this period I couldn’t let go of the idea to get myself a cat, and to that idea there was a name: Artemis. Sounds silly of course, but it was like faith. It was just one of them ideas you can’t let go.
So I got my self two cats: Artemis and Hermes. Artemis was the smaller one, the slender and beutiful one, immediately very attached to me. Her mom died days after she was born, so Hermes mother, who had kittens just about the same day as Artemis’ mother did, took her to for nursering etc. Hermes and Artemis were related but not siblings (Hermes’ mother was in fact Artemis’ mother’s mother.) Hermes grew to be a very large cat. Not overweight, but large, twice as big as Artemis, no joke, and Artemis was in no way a small cat. Hermes is laying here right by my side while writing this, and he is the last one who still is here.
After I met the woman who later became my wife, we got ourself another cat: Dionysos, quite a trickster. A really charming cat, I miss him the most. Later on we got ourself yet another cat, Thetis, because otherwise she would have been taken to the veterinarian. I needed to save her life. Thetis came to be very attached to Hermes, and Hermes became the alpha cat in the pack, and Artemis, my little godess, the omega cat, who tried to stay out of the dynamics and bond only to me, while Dionysos and Thetis tried to impress Hermes, unfortunately amongst other things, by being mean to Artemis. Of course this made me upset, etcetera, but there’s only so much you can do when you have a cat pack with its own dynamics.
Now we have two kids, and unfortunately, we got allergy in our family (the wife, not the children). The cats had to go. And even though you can’t compare your feelings for your children with your feeling for your cats, the cats are still members of the family and you love them. But they had to go. We really waited a long hard time for my wife, before we realized that we can’t go on like this.
We managed to get Dionysos to a nice house with an elderly woman (a friend’s mother), and we have been talking with yet another woman in another house who’ll probably take Hermes, but we had no place for the females Thetis and Artemis.
I can’t just give them away to anybody, I need to know that they’ll get to a good place where they’ll be well treated and so forth. Problem is, if you like cats, you got cats. It’s difficult to find somebody with whom a grown up cat could live and be loved. Also, I need to talk about Artemis: She’s a real vixen, I tell you. Nobody but me could touch her. While I could pat her on the stomach, you got blood floating if anybody else tried to. I remember when my brother was visiting, and I told him – as I tell everybody – that while you might pat anyone else of the other three cats if they show up, you should not touch Artemis. She looks cool and tempting – but she will hurt you. She might sit on my shoulder, being calm and beutiful as a peaceful god from ancient Egypt, and let me play around with her anyway I like to (well, almost), but without exception: If anyone else touch her, she’ll hit you. Therefore, when people we know are visiting us, they usually asks: “She’s the dangerous one?”, just to make sure.
Anyhow, Artemis lay on her back under the coffee table, beautiful and innocent looking as ever, and my brother asked me if he could pat her. I said “No”, and continued talking with whomever I was talking with.
He didn’t listen, she looked so inviting in a way, the prettiest cat you could imagine, on her back, close to sleep, so carefully he tried to stroke her. Wham! He stared at me: “I didn’t even see her doing it!” he said, blood dripping from his hand.
Nevermind, she liked me, we slept in the same bed for years, and I’m not saying she should do it, or had reason to do it, but frankly she adored me. The only time I had trouble with her was when I took her to the veterinarian for castration. She knew that was coming – how, only God knows – and I tell you, it was like fighting a bobcat to get her in to that box. I even took gloves on, because I started bleeding so much. It took a couple of days before she trusted me again. Then everything was back to normal.
And she smelled so nice! It was like she used perfume, I kid you not. Almost daily I stuck my nose in her fur and just smelled it. You know when you take the laundry out of the washing machine – only better than that: Fresh, clean, actually as if she had used some kind of perfume. Healthy, clean cats smell good, but I’ve never smelled this perfume-like scent before, even though I’ve been pretty close to up to ten cats. The fur was all shiny and a bit longer than what’s common; a very slender green-eyed cat. I’ve never seen a cat as beutiful as her, or as temperamental, or as loving and loyal.
One day a few weeks ago I noticed that Thetis, who used to be a bit overweight, was thinner than usual. I talked about this with my wife, and realized that neither my wife nor I had seen her eat lately. A week later I realized that Artemis also had stopped eating.
We had left Dionysos at the old lady’s place at this time, and we had gotten a place for Hermes at another nice lady’s, but none of the females had a place, and I feared that we would have to take their lives. But we hadn’t spoken about it, or made any deal about it whatsoever (with two kids, you got your deals to pay attention to already), but now both cats who hadn’t gotten a place to go to, didn’t eat anymore, even though I made fish and everything. They didn’t behave particularly different in any other sense, they weren’t showing any symptoms of disease or depression, their tails in the air and everything – they just didn’t eat.
My wife wondered what kind of illness had struck them, but I said frankly: “They know where they’re heading.” Of course she didn’t believe that, and how on earth could they have known such a thing? But I knew they knew.
As days passed it became obvious to us too, that we really didn’t have any choice, we would have to take them to the vet. My wife was more unsentimental about it than I was, and took Thetis, because she knew that Artemis would give one hell of a fight, and also, she knew how much I ceared for her. So she took Thetis.
A couple of days later I asked her about it. I didn’t want to talk about it, but after a couple of days I asked. She said it was mournful, but Thetis was weak and it was pretty fast done.
This was agonizing for me. I knew I had to go with Artemis, because, frankly, I love the cat and she deserves having me with her. I called the vet and they said they could squeeze me in tomorrow, but I said: “No, that’s too early!” It was a reflex. We decided a few days later, Friday the fifteenth.
I was filled with angst as I hung up, the rest of that day I didn’t work, I just sat there. I was probably hoping that Artemis would die by herself before Friday. You know, she didn’t eat, hadn’t been eaten for a couple of weeks, she was becoming thin. Also, she began to lie in the hall. She had never done that before. All cats have their favourite places, hers were never on the floor, and never in the hall. I was like she was going, she was on her way, already.
She was a bit weak, but really, not a very big change, and she purred as usual when I sat by her. I felt really guilty and sad. I even said to her: “Artemis, you’re so kind, making this easier for me.” Meaning that she was ill, she was on her way, because I could never have put her to death if she was healthy. I could never have done it if she was healthy and fit.
Thursday, she didn’t only lie on the floor in the hall, but she actually lay at the door. I strongly believe she knew exactly what was going on. She didn’t give me no evil eye, there was no sign of blame or even unhappiness in her eyes. She was still loving, purring, squinting, got up on her feet and gave me a head but as always.
Friday: I came home early from work, beacuse it was 2 p.m. at the vet. I told you about the fight we had when I was about to take her to the vet, and if I would have to fight about it this time, I tell you, I wouldn’t been able to do it. I would have broken down.
At first try she didn’t want to go into the box. That was expected. I let her go. Sat down for a while, and then, gently, I tried again and she didn’t resist. If you knew her, you wouldn’t believe it, even though she was weak; I mean, she had character, she had character like the greek godess she’s named after, but she let me put her in the box without resistance.
She didn’t say much in the car, I talked with her about what was going to happen, in a (I believe) comforting way, and I decided that I shouldn’t cry. I’m 37 later this month, it is a cat, and if I feel like it, I can shed my tears later. Now we need to get this done with.
The vets were very professional and compassionate, restpectful. This surprised me, but then again, I took her to the most esteemed vet in the area, because I didn’t want to take her to some butcher type of character who didn’t care much for the life or death of cats.
They asked, almost whispering as if I was at a funeral or something, if I would like to be with her or if I wanted to leave her there. “I’ll be with her," I said. They asked if I wanted the body, or if they should take the body. “I want you to cremate her.” They asked if I wanted the ashes. “No”, I said. (It would cost me an additional $150, and I couldn’t see the point with it.)
Then we where alone in a room, Artemis and I, and I needed to talk to her, my beautiful little friend, so I talked about her mother, who died when she was newly born, and I said that she was going to her mother now, and that her mother probably was anxious to see her. Those kind of things. Stroking her gently. She was very calm.
Then a young woman came in, and patted her a bit, respectfully. Uncharacteristically, Artemis didn’t mind at all. The vet told me how they would do it. I was cool about it. She was a bit explicit about the shot in the heart, and said that even though the cat won’t feel it (after the first shot), it doesn’t look very nice, so most people leave when the cat/dog is at sleep after the first shot. I told her I’ll be with her all the way.
I took Artemis out of the box, of course she had stayed there even though the door was open, and put the box on the floor. I laid her down, and patted her gently, while the vet gave her the shot in the liver. I didn’t look at it, but she had told me that that was what she was going to do. Artemis complained about it, but just a bit when the needle penetrated the skin. Then she was all quite and calm again.
The vet left us alone. I sat there with Artemis, talked with her, and stroked her very soft and smooth fur. The vet had told me that many cats fight it, when they feel they are getting tired, but Artemis – once again, uncharacteristically – didn’t. Not a bit. She just lay there, and suddenly I saw her tounge sticking out. But once in a while I could see her breathing. I found myself whispering: “Go to your mother, now, Artemis.”
Ten minutes later the vet came back and listened to her heart, and told me that she would now give the last shot, hinting that I might wanna leave. I sat where I sat, but didn’t look. It actually took a minute or two, I don’t know why, for her to finish with the injection.
Then she listened to her heart again, and told me that it had stopped beating. I rose, and we where about to leave, when I turned back and kissed Artemis on the shoulder. Then I was about to leave again, but suddenly I broke down, fell down into the chair, and cried like a child.
“Take your time”, the vet said, “there’s no hurry”, and left me with the body of the most beautiful cat on earth. I pulled my self together after a few minutes, washed my face, said goodbye again, and left with my empty cat box.
Outside there was an officer at my car, just about to write me a bill. I asked: “Will I get into my car in time?” A bit surprised how calm and polite I sounded. “Yeah, sure”, he smiled, “you’re a lucky man!”
I drove away, I was gonna get me a bottle of Famous Grouse, which I’m drinking right now, but had to stop half way because I couldn’t see anything for all the water in my eyes.
And to day, the day after, I feel really bad. I miss her, and I almost regret I did it, so I tell my self that she was gonna go anyway, I had no choice, and we can’t have cats no more. But I want to say it to her. I can’t believe I’ll never see her again.
My wife’s pregnant, I got my two kids sleeping on the other side of the door; I got all the love I need, and I am – as the officer said – a lucky man, but I can’t remember me crying like this before. I really love that cat, that beautiful green-eyed princess of mine. I miss her terribly, and the fact that it was I who put her to sleep breaks my heart totally.
While writing this, I’ve been taking breaks to frame a very beautiful photograph of her, hanging right by my desk now, to cry, and to pour some more Famous Grouse in my glass. Thank you for taking some part in my grief.
