I talk a good talk. I say, "I will only spend so much on my pet. I can always get another pet."
But I don't walk the walk.
Living in the desert, pet death is a fact of life. Our family has had more than one pet run over by a car, be poisoned by haters or insects/arachnids, run afoul of the wild dogs and coyotes that roam freely, or just go missing one day and you don't know what became of them.
I thought I had something lined up for Caly, tentatively, until she was diagnosed with diabetes. It was always a tough sell to any person or organization to take an obese cat with a history of UTIs and a little, tiny bit of "bad behavior" thrown in. But the diabetes was the end. No one wants a 10 year old cat, no matter how cute, that may pee on things, and has to be given injections twice a day, monitored, and given a special, more expensive diet. That was a killer. And I simply felt that moving Caly, at her age and with her conditions, to a brand new environment in Canada, with all the issues of getting her medically cleared to cross the border, was not a viable option. I considered it many times over the last few months and weeks in particular, but I kept coming back to that.
Over the last week I have been trying harder to find someplace with a no-kill rule to take her. But none would, because of her age and the preexisting conditions. So today I called back my vet. Jenny, at the front desk, did her best to be kind but basically said the vet wouldn't do it unless I checked some last minute other locations. I tried them-- same deal. Not with diabetes. None of the pounds would take her without the threat of euthanasia due to her age and the existing condition.
I have called almost 10 different places, places on top of the others I have tried over the last week and even earlier, trying to find someone I could give my cat to who would just take care of her until she was adopted or died on her own.
When all that failed, the vet reluctantly agreed to perform the euthanasia.
I talk a good talk. Saying, "It's just a pet. I can go down to nearly any shelter or, hell, drug store, and pick up a replacement today!"
But I don't walk the walk.
The very short drive to the vet was long. I was fine up until the woman at the reception desk to whom I had not yet spoken (the other two were on the phones when I arrived), asked, "So who is this and what can we do for you today?" She, of course, said it in a very cheery tone.
"Calypso and ...," I nearly lost it right there, "and ... euthanasia." I'm very happy her face turned dour and sad. I was stroking Caly through the opening to the cat carrier, paying special attention to her eyes and the spot by her ears she likes so much. Only cat I have known that loved being rubbed right on her closed eyes. By the time the receptionist very quietly gave me a copy of the euthanasia form and I paid the bill, I could barely speak. In a voice heavy with sadness and with a face that was on the verge of tears, and I'm sure was white as a sheet, I said -- I did not ask -- "It will be quick and painless."
"Yes," she replied quietly.
"Then I have to leave now," I said before I lost it altogether. I walked somberly to my car and sat there for a few minutes.
Oh, I talk a great talk, but I can't walk the walk.
I am sad beyond measure that, as of right now, this minute, the cat who has been my constant companion for the last 10 years is not here to curl up in my lap and purr. And I wish I had learned how to properly cry so I could get this OUT already and be "done with it." I'm sitting here with a red face, the urge to cry, tears in my eyes and more waiting, and a slightly runny nose, and I simply cannot let go enough to let it out. My chest hurts from the emotion and simply don't know how to make it release or come out or go anywhere.
And I'm not allowing comments on this post because I'm afraid someone will say all the right things ("It was the best decision," "It had to be done," etc.) or the wrong things ("Did you think to try X," "Well maybe you could have done Y," etc.) and I simply don't want to hear it, okay? Because, frankly, when all is said and done, this was my decision and, like all decisions I make, it was made with the best available information, for the best possible reasons, and included what I thought was best for all parties involved, including my beloved cat. I made what I thought was every reasonable attempt to find another answer to this situation and it came up empty every time.
And I'm simply going to have to live with that, accept it, and move on, no matter how hard that is.
Because I talk a really great talk, but I simply cannot walk the fucking walk.
