I feel a little out of place posting something on this site, as I have never been one to publicly share my emotions on a website. But, here goes.
At 7:30 this morning, I had to make one of the most difficult and heart-wrenching decisions I have ever had to make. I adopted 4 week old Ashby less than 2 weeks ago. She was the most beautiful, loving, and affectionate little kitten I had ever seen.
I already have Graycie (almost 4 years old now) and often felt guilty that she had no feline companionship. So, after much deliberation, my partner and I decided to bring a new addition into our home.
We brought Ashby home, and provided her own space away from Graycie. She was immediately lively and very vocal, seemingly happy with her new home. All was going well until last Thursday, when I noticed little Ashby was lethargic and not eating. Her usual playfulness wasn’t present, and I became more concerned when I saw she had diarrhea. We took her to the vet on Friday, where she was diagnosed with dehydration. She was given fluids, prescription food, and we were given an assurance that over the next few days she would improve.
Sure enough, Ashby was eating more regularly, and by Sunday, was sleeping far less and becoming more vocal once again. She still wasn’t playing, but her diarrhea was improving, her eyes much brighter, and her energy levels were up. I was so incredibly hopeful that our wonderful new addition was on the mend.
I went to work Monday morning as usual, but shortly after had a disturbing voicemail from my partner telling me that Ashby had literally collapsed and couldn’t hold herself upright. When placed in front of her food she was clearly hungry but couldn’t even hold her own head over the bowl. He immediately took her to the vet, where she was given fluids and glucose as this appeared to be the problem. I remained in contact with my partner all day and he relayed everything the vet was saying about Ashby. She needed to stay in the vets for a few days, but could return home if there would be someone home to give her constant care until she was out of the woods.
Although very worried, I was at least somewhat reassured that she could come home within a day or so and we could nurse her ourselves. I arrived home at 5:30, and we called the vet. He was just about to call us with some news, were were told, but not good news. Ashby needed to be transferred to the Emergency Hospital because she wasn’t responding to the fluids or glucose. We immediately took her in a cab, and she was whisked away to be cared for in the ICU.
Shortly after, the doctor came to speak with us. She explained the prognosis was not good, but that everyone would do everything they could for Ashby. However, she also told us that we should expect Ashby to perhaps not make it through the night and wanted us to sign the relevant paperwork should she need to be resuscitated. This was a dilemma but we finally agreed that should the need arise, Ashby was to be revived if possible.
I became so upset, that while my partner was dealing with the payments, I needed to go outside to cry. A few minutes later he came outside and asked if I wanted to say goodnight to Ashby. I hesitated, but knew I had to see her and let her hear my voice.
Well, while I know in my heart it was the right thing to do, it was so INCREDIBLY hard to see her hooked up to tubes and looking almost skeletal.
But, I remained hopeful, although sobbing my heart out, that Ashby would improve through the night.
We went to bed as normal, but I couldn’t fall asleep, as the image etched into my brain was of my little baby on the table with tubes, collapsed and weak. I couldn’t shake the image and I sobbed uncontrollably. I eventually drifted off to sleep, with my partner stroking my back.
We awoke to the ring of the phone, and I just knew it was bad news. The vet told us that Ashby had to be resuscitated during the night and as a result her condition had deteriorated so severely he didn’t believe she would recover. But, he was willing to continue Critical Care if that was our wish, and she was currently peaceful and resting. He asked us to thing about a decision, and he would call back in 2 hours.
As promised he called us back, and we told him our decision. Ashby wasn’t to suffer anymore, we wanted her to be at peace. Those two hours were hell, and torture for me as I was torn in every way possible.
That was less than 12 hours ago, and my heart has been full of sorrow, guilt, and uncertainty. Should we have been more aggressive? Should we have gone to the vets to be with Ashby? Should we have even allowed the first resuscitation? If money had been no issue, I have no doubt I would have told the vet to continue and do whatever it takes. But, my partner and I are both on teacher salaries (I work the summer, he doesn’t) and the bills had already been over $3000 in just 4 days. Yet more guilt and a sense of self-disgust that I let money even enter into the equation.
I already miss her so much, and cry even as I write this. No more kitten cries, no more climbing up my chest to rest on my shoulder, no more mid-air somersaults during play time, and no more bright eyes as I enter the bathroom she had made home for the past 9 days.
My heart feels heavy, and lonely despite the fact I have the most amazing partner and a beautiful 4 year old cat. I just can’t comprehend such a rapid decline and subsequent loss of dear Ashby who had so rapidly filled our hearts with joy, laughter, and love.
By the way, I am a 36 year old man, who feels somewhat silly for the constant tears and emotional outbursts. But, a cat lover I have always been, and always will be. Yet, totally ill-prepared and unaware of the feeling associated with the loss of a pet.
I needed to express my thoughts through the written word, and try to make sense of today’s events by doing so.
Goodbye Ashby!! You were a sweet and beautiful addition to our lives. The length of your time on earth is a mere fraction of the impact you have had on me.
I miss you so very much!