Good grief

While I appreciate the idea of the whole 'rainbow bridge' thing, even typing those two words makes me feel like I'm a Precious Moments figurine - way too saccharine and hackneyed, like how everything nowadays is a 'journey' - weight loss, divorce, menopause, constipation. Not everything needs to be injected with meaning. 

This past Wednesday, my youngest and I took Dottie the Elder, our 19 year old cat, to the vet so she could begin her next assignment. We had her euthanized, just with a different euphemism. 

Dottie Kittaen

Dottie was a good cat, and I've written about her before so will skip the obituary, but I am surprised that the removal of one 5 pound elderly feline could leave such a noticeable hole in the Pleasant Street compound. 

The kid was understandably bereft, having known Dottie for as long as they can remember. I cried too, but most of what I felt was gratitude that we can do this for our pets when they're not having any more fun. Gratitude for the kindness of the vet and vet tech, who showed honest compassion for Dottie and for us, even though they must go through the same process all the time. A little nugget of guilty gratitude that throw rugs can be welcomed back into my home now that little miss "I'm 19 years old I'll piss where I want" has left the building. 

What I didn't expect was how Dottie's departure would affect the other pets. One of the dogs peed on the office floor later that night, thankfully before I'd pulled out the throw rugs. Zero the Cat stood on the kitchen table and sang an operatic tribute to Dottie, nearly as loud as the performances she used to give in the garage, where the acoustics were just right. Three the Cat, normally stoic (despite being ridiculously floofy), has been seeking out snuggling, and is in fact sleeping on my foot right now. I watched Marjorie the Dog sniff all around the living room last night, checking all of Dottie's old haunts, clearly looking for her. The resigned sigh she let out when she finally gave up searching was its own memorial tribute. 

  

And then there's me, who went straight back to bed after the crack-of-dawn pet duties and stayed there until nearly 2:00 PM, not stressed or anxious or whirling, just plain old sad. Dottie was the last of the old guard, pets adopted when the kids were little, and it feels a little like I've lost a co-parent. When she was dying, I told her she had done such a good job, and that I was so grateful to her. And that I forgave all the pee. 

World's greatest nap assistant.

I hope somebody will tell me I've done a good job when it's my time for the rainbow bridge. 

Anyways, raise a glass to the memory of sweet Dottie tonight, please.