After fourteen years together, I delivered our beautiful cat, Lexie, to veterinary specialists for a throat scope early this morning. In a few short weeks she had gone from a social, vocal and loving feline companion to a hoarse, weak, barely eating cat choosing to hide from the family.
An x-ray late last week and a CT-scan earlier this week, revealed a mass in her throat. Veterinary specialists advised a throat scope but forewarned us Lexie might not survive the procedure. They told us a throat scope could tell us more about the mass and any possible treatment options.
We were mentally prepared for the worst but still hoped for any good news. Sadly, we were not fully prepared emotionally to hear the final diagnosis and recommendation. The throat scope revealed Lexie had cancer and it had progressed beyond any recommended treatment. They could revive her for a final goodbye, but euthanasia appeared to be the most compassionate next step.
My wife and I returned to say our goodbyes. We petted and hugged her. We apologized for not knowing how to help her earlier than we had. We thanked her for our fourteen years together. We asked her to wait for us at Rainbow Bridge. We told her we would miss her terribly and would place her cremains on our memorial bookcase with other loved ones from our “furever” family.
My wife held Lexie as our beloved feline received two injections into her IV. She was gone almost instantly. See https://www.vet.cornell.edu/departments-centers-and-institutes/cornell-feline-health-center/health-information/feline-health-topics/euthanasia-what-expect-and-what-questions-ask-first
Love is hard, grief is hard, and some days are very hard.
John Denver’s version of Some Days Are Diamonds seems a fitting memorial song.