My mother took her to the vet this morning-and they put her to sleep. I’m okay-in fact, it’s something of a relief-that’s she’s out of pain, and that it’s over, and now I can move on-as selfish and crass as I find that.
I held her before my mother left and covered her with kisses and told her what a good girl she was, how much we loved her, and how pretty she was. She was such a sweetie.
She’s with my Fluffy now. I’m okay now. I am-I haven’t cried except for a small time when my mom went to the store. I guess it’s just that the hardest part is over.
Goodbye, Tess. I hope I’ll see you again someday. Until then, you’ll always be with me.
Having to put down three pets in my lifetime (and I’m only 18) I know how hard it is to let go. But she’s not in pain anymore, and for me, seeing my pets in pain is one of the worst feelings.
Lost one of my babies earlier this month. My eyes still tear up when I try to talk about it.
My whole life people have said I’m too soft-hearted about animals, but you know, an animal has never let me down the way people do.
Ok, so one of my cats snacks out of my fish tank. But we’re working on it.
My religion(Christianity) isn’t really specific as to what Heaven will be like, but I find it hard to believe that a God who lets us love our pets so much won’t let us see them again. I like something I read in a history book once, that Martin Luther was supposed to have said, that it wouldn’t really seem like Heaven if there weren’t any dogs there. So I like to belive that someday I will see Old Kitty, Tom, Butterball, Leroy, Pearl, Fred, Baby, et. al again. And you will see Fluffy and Tess. In the meantime they are thinking of ways to spring upon you and suprise you when you arrive, then rub against your legs.
After our beloved springer Miss Emily died, Mr. S (with whom she had bonded the most) said she would never be a “past-tense dog” to him. We still talk to her and feel her presence, almost two years later.
Tess is gone only if you forget her. Sounds like a sappy cliché, but it’s true.
To this day, if I walk into a dark room and see something lying in certain spots, I automatically assume, for a split second, that it’s my cat. She’s been dead and gone for nearly ten years now.
She ingested antifreeze, and suffered complete kidney failure. She was almost unable to move when I found her and rushed her to the vet. I held her as they put her to sleep. She purred when I found her and picked her up, and continued to purr, bloated and paralyzed as she was, until the drug finished her off.
In my experience (and I have had more than I would like) the worst part is making the decision and saying goodbye. I hope your experience is like mine in that once your beloved pet is out of pain, you are, too.
I’m so sorry about poor little Tess! You gave her a good life while she was here. My prediction is that somehow Tess will see to it that another little kitty finds its way to you eventually, not to replace Tess, but to benefit from all the love you will lavish on him or her (not to mention the hoity-toity litter box!)
Guin, as I said in the other thread, making that kitten’s last little while comfortable and safe, knowing how much it would hurt you in the end, was an act of grace.
Thanks, you guys. I’m okay. Really. I feel more at peace, now, that I’m not worrying about her. Or it hasn’t sunken in yet.
The other kitties are really helping-Noel, Misty, Gypsy and Buffy. I think they understand. Gypsy hasn’t complained as much when I pick her up-but I’m going to let my sister sleep with Gyps tonight. Gypsy and Buffy are my cats, but since Tess was my sister’s, and had slept with her every night since we found out, I’ll let her have Gippi-Sippi tonight.
We each put a little something in with her-my sister and my mom put pins, and I took something I had in my jewelry box-one of Fluffy’s whiskers. (I have another one, as gross as that may sound-don’t worry, I didn’t pull them out-I had found them on my bed on two different occassions).
