and pray that one day I will stop regretting the decision I made to put my 14 year old Persian cat, Strawberry, to rest this past Wendesday, April 4th. I adopted "Straw" in 2003, not long after purchasing my first home. I was single at the time. I had just gone through a devastating breakup. A dear friend of mine talked me into adopting a Persian cat. They had had a couple themselves and had adopted them from a breeder in Toccoa, Ga. These adoptable cats were once "show" cats who participated in competitions, winning money, medals and ribbons. My soon to be adopted cat's name was "Strawberries N' Cream". She was a light orange and white with big and wide copper colored eyes. She was so beautiful.
I was hesitant to adopt another cat as I already owned an orange and white Tom cat named Jackson Browne. Make no mistake, he ruled the roost as male of the house. I wasn't sure how he would react to a female moving in and taking over as "madam of the house". After seeing her picture on the breeder's website, my friend and her husband made the drive to Toccoa to pick her up. She came home with me and was with me until just this past Wednesday. When I made the move to Macon in 2004, my landlord would allow me to have only one cat. Strawberry was the one I chose to take with me. Jackson Browne stayed behind to live with my Mama and Daddy. Unfortunately, he ran away the night before I moved after being put outside. We've never seen him again.
Strawberry was special. Most people thought she was a bit ugly because her face was flat. Some say she looked like she had been "hit with a frying pan". I suppose she was a little bit odd looking, but I loved her unconditionally and I thought she was quite majestic with her long fluffy hair and regal looking eyes. She remained beautiful (though a bit matted in a couple of places) until the day she left this world....my world. Strawberry was a source of support when I had nothing and noone else. I could not have made the move to Macon without her. I could not have faced lonely days and nights without her loving presence. She nudged me when I needed nudging. She curled up with me when I was cold. She listened to me when I needed a confidant. She purred a lot and this let me know she was loved and was happy to be my baby.
Strawberry was one of my first babies before God gave me a real life baby. I cared for her deeply not just by feeding her and watering her every day, but I bathed and groomed her with my own two hands. She didn't always love doing this but she was patient and allowed me to do what I needed to do to keep her clean and matte free.
In 2008, just before Daniel and I were to be married, we had a new floor put down in our laundry room. She began urinating on the floor, outside of the litterbox, in the corners right at the back door. Her urine seeped under the threshholds and baseboards. I would clean and clean and clean but we could still smell stale and fresh urine every time we walked in the back door. As the years passed, she began doing this in other places; the hallway outside of Ethan's room on the lanoleum. Then, when she could, she would sneak into Ethan's bathroom and use the floor in there. I was cleaning up "pee" all the time. Between caring for a 2 year old and a husband who has a hard work schedule between a full-time job and owning a restaurant.....I finally reached a breaking point. Let me not forget to mention that Daniel's Jack Russell Terrier is very nervous and has chewed up the majority of our furniture and is also destroying walls. She's a licker and a chewer. I wont' dwell on this as this blog post is a tribute to my beloved Straw.
I took my baby to the vet on Wednesday a little over a week ago. I was contemplating putting her outside. I was deeply conflicted but I felt I had no other choice. I knew she probably would not make it outside as she had never been an outdoor cat. I feared she would be eaten by our country animals out here on Harrell Road or she would be bullied by another neighborhood cat and not fight the good fight. While discussing this option with our vet, she asked if I would like to have some blood work done. I told her that if I was considering placing her outside then I would like to know that she was "ok". Well, the test for diabetes came back positive. The vet said she would not advise me to put her outside at this stage in the game. This was not even an option in my mind now that I knew she was sick and old to boot. I was given the option to "treat" her with insulin shots twice a day. However, as most of you well know, once you begin insulin, this is not something you take lightly and say, "Well, we're taking a week's vacation, we'll give her her shots when we get back." It doesn't work quite like this at all.
I cried and cried that day after leaving the vet's office because I knew what the inevitable was.....I just didn't know when. Sunday rolled around and we were making our weekly trip to Walmart. I bought a bag of food and litter. Daniel looked at me a little weird. I knew what he was thinking...."Why is she buying that now when she's going to be going soon?" Well, I just acted like everything was normal. I wanted more time to wrap my brain around this. So, I entered another week, still trying to accept the fact that her little life would soon be over. Tuesday rolled around and Daniel brought it when I spoke to him during lunch. I was angry with him at the time because I knew what I needed to do but I didn't need anyone to push me to do it. I was overwhelmed with feelings of resentment that his "dumb dog" would still be walking around after my sweet baby would be gone. I snapped at him a little, I'm sure. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot at work while having this conversation. I hung up with him and began to cry again.
I called the vet's office to make THE appointment for her for the next morning at 10 a.m. As I spoke with Brandy regarding the process and payment, I was doodling on my desk pad and noticed that everything began to run on the paper. Tears were flowing, I had a lump I was desperately choking on in my throat and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
That evening, I came home and asked Daniel to dig the hole. After our evening routine and getting Ethan put to bed, Daniel jumped in the shower. I went in the den and picked Strawberry up from one of her favorite curl up spots by the glider rocker. I held her in my arms. I rocked her. I stroked her. I scratched her head and behind her ears. I took my thumb and pushed in between her eyes on what would be the the bridge of our noses (hers was sunken in-lol). She always loved it when I would do this. I looked into her eyes and told her that I loved her and I told her how much she meant to me. I apologized for not having paid her more attention since Ethan was born. I thanked her for everything she had ever done for me and for everything she had ever been to me. It was so strange....it was like she could really see me and see my pain.
The next morning, I woke up and opened our bedroom door. Coincidentally, she was sitting right outside of the door. She NEVER did this......ever. After I opened the door, she proceeded to go under our bed. I prayed with all my might that she would just go under there and die so I wouldn't have to take her to her death in a couple of hours.
Daniel left to make a delivery for his work. I got Ethan off to Miss Gay's. I came home, sat down in the floor and loved on her some more. Daniel came in and I began picking up some of her things. I took her litterbox, new litter and feeding bowl out to the trash can at the road. I took her leftover food next door to Aunt Patsy's. When I came back, I asked Daniel what time it was. He said, "It's 10 til." I coaxed her into her carrier, picked her up and walked out the door. The drive to the vet's office was horrible. Hannah's Mill Road was the shortest it has ever been on this day. Upon arriving at the vet's office, I took her out of the car. I didn't really break down until I opened the door to office and then it came. I choked on my breath. The tears were uncontrollable.
The two ladies in the front office nodded and pointed us towards the exam room. We walked in, I took her out of the carrier and placed her on the cold, metal table scale. I noticed immediately that she had lost a pound since last week.....odd. It bothered me to see her standing on that metal table so I took out the sheet that I brought to wrap her in. We brought a copier paper box from my office to bury her in. As we waited on the doctor, a tech came in to talk with us and tell us how this would go down. I stroked her even more and even harder while listening to the tech talk. It seemed like forever before Dr. Rozell came in. Then, the door opened and there she stood with the fateful life-ending syringe. She carefully explained a few things that "might" happen and did not want us to be alarmed. She said it would take about 30 seconds. She might gasp, she might growl, she might meow, but these were all natural reflexes to her organs shutting down. I heard her talking but I could not "hear" what she was saying.
They shaved a patch on her leg to find a vein. Bzzzzzz.......just like that and then......they slid the needle in. As she kept injecting.....Strawberry's little body just went limp and she laid there.......eyes wide open, pupils fixed and dialated......her little tongue just barely sticking out of her mouth. The doctor stood and her tech stood there for a few seconds and then she placed her stethascope on her heart. Dr. Rozell looked at me and nodded her head to let me know she was gone. In that moment, I felt my own heart stop beating. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to pick her up and just leave. They told us to take all the time we needed and that they were very sorry.
After they walked out, I gently stroked her. I picked up her head just slightly. I picked up her paw and watched it drop limply onto the other one. I tried to close her eyes, but I couldn't get them to cooperate. I leaned over her and rested my head on her for a second or two. Then, I folded the sheet up from side to side and end to end. I picked my baby up in my arms and swayed with her in my arms back and forth back and forth. Then, I placed her in the box and put the lid on. Daniel asked me if I wanted him to carry her. I quickly said no. I want to. They were so good to allow us to exit out of the side of the building. I put her in the car and we went home. I carried her down to her final resting spot. Daniel stood there waiting for me to place her in the hole. Some people would probably think this is strange, but I opened the box and tried to pull back the sheet just a little to see her one more time. I saw a glimpse of her head and stuck my hand in to pet her and feel her warmth one more time.
This is by far one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I had to put my tom cat, Mr. Moore (adopted after I moved to Macon----at the shagrin of my landlord), to sleep after returning to my apartment from Thanksgiving holidays in Thomaston. I walked in on him going into toxic shock from urinary obstruction. I rushed him to the vet at PetSmart. The events leading up to his death were terrible. I will not go into detail about this event. As I said earlier, this is a tribute to my Straw. This act of euthanasia was difficult and hard to swallow as well, but it was an emergency situation and I had to act fast. Do not discount that it was any easier.....especially in the days to follow. However, I had no time to "decide" to put him down. With Strawberry's death......I had to ready myself and for this.....there is no ready......even when you take a week to think about it.
So, that's it. She's gone. She has her own little corner near a section of woods down in our front yard. There is not a day that I have not cried yet over her not being here. Her grave can be seen from our windows on the front of the house. I know she's not really there but she is. When the sun goes down each night, I think about how she's outside and it's getting dark. I think about how cold and stiff she must be by now. I know these are very morbid thoughts but I was probably closer to her than any human I've ever lost (including my grandparents----I'm sorry---maybe this is a bit dramatic but it's how I feel at this moment). Today, Saturday, I marked her grave with a little white cross. There's a gentleman in Yatesville who makes them for the "The Cross" ministry. We stopped by there on our way home from Macon today. It was important to me to mark where she is with the cross. God sent her to me and God took her away. "There is a purpose for everything under heaven."
I will be ok in time. For now, I am still sad and very much mourning the loss of a dear companion who entrusted me with her life and gave me much love and attention even when I didn't deserve it.
Strawberry, I miss you. I love you.
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