Anyway, I made the decision not to treat her, but instead to allow her slow decline to continue and when it became clear that her quality of life was compromised, to euthanize her.
Yesterday was the day. I looked at her in the morning and said to myself "it's not going to get better. This is the best that she has. Is that ok?" No, I could not honestly say that it was.
So today I find myself without a cat for the first time in 18 years. (You'd have to go back another 18 years before that to find the previous time.)
Barnard showed up in the barn in August, 2011. That was a rough summer -- Oskar died in May, and Abe in August. It took her until the freeze of January to actually venture up to the house. It took a while before she moved in. The vet said she was about five years old and had had kittens at least once. I thought she was a kitten herself! I am happy that the second half of her life was spent at Busy Solitude Farm where she could bask in the sun without fear.
I believe a cat makes a house a home. In time I will find a couple of cats to bring home. They'll need to be ok with dogs -- Phoebe is rather enthusiastic about other animals in the house. And I'd like a couple who know and love each other.
But until that time, Phoebe and I are alone, with only our memories of Barnard.
3 comments:
Beautiful Story!
Lovely post, very sorry your friend and companion is gone.
My belated condolences for your loss. Barnard was a pistol and I've greatly enjoyed reading about her over the years. She lives on via your lovely essays. We should all be remembered so fondly.
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