As I find myself closer and closer to the inevitable time when my cat, Ding, will die, and the possibility that I may have to have her put to sleep, I find myself repeating an inner argument about the nature of trust.
I got Ding as an 8 week old kitten in the spring of 1990, when I was 18 years old. She was a skittish and nervous kitten. Nervous to the point of being neurotic, in fact. She would over-groom to the point of removing the fur entirely from large areas of her body—I once had her tested for skin conditions because of it, but in the end the vet determined that she was just rather OCD. She’s always been the cat who runs away from loud noises—or even not so loud noises, and flinches if you move too fast.
I’ve had her for a very long time now. 18 years. In that time we’ve developed a very strong bond of friendship and family, and of trust. She trusts me. She used to run to me and hide behind me if one of the other cats was chasing her—she knew I would protect her. She doesn’t struggle if I hold her in a precarious position where she would otherwise fall, because she knows I will not drop her.
Her neurotic behavior led to her chewing on her left front paw to a ridiculous degree. To the degree, in fact, that she literally chewed off her dewclaw toe. Fortunately we have a friend who is a vet who takes care of her and he did the surgery to repair her foot for free—removed the remaining bit of bone, sewed up the wound, and so on. That was six months ago and the foot still hasn’t closed. It’s gotten infected a few times, and she’s been on antibiotics several times. She’s had two more surgeries done on it, and during the last one, the vet removed a small mass that was on her leg a little higher up. He sent it to the lab for testing and the results came back: metastasized lung cancer, a rare form. The vet now thinks that the presence of cancerous cells in her leg might be part of why it isn’t healing well. Fortunately, cancerous tissue doesn’t tend to have many nerves, so the paw probably doesn’t hurt the way it would a healthier cat.
continued:
— 01:01:43 AM
[2237]
05/24/2008 02:54 PM Reply
It is never easy to put one of our beloved pets to sleep, Opal. But although we’re aware that they trust us implicitly, we also know we owe them the obligation to not let them suffer in pain and agony.
I know it is difficult, but I am not one who can let a beloved pet suffer pain that cannot be stopped.
If it happens to your cat,let her know that her trust includes your not letting her suffer.
05/27/2008 03:08 PM Reply
I know, but it’s just such a hard issue to wrap your head around. Such a hard decision to have to make :(
05/29/2008 09:12 AM Reply
this is in theory a reply to #5.
05/29/2008 11:55 AM Reply
Every last cat that I’ve been with at ‘that’ time has without fail, looked me right in the eye. I’d like to think they know we’re doing it BECAUSE we love them and can’t see them suffer.
Ding sounds a lot like our Marty – very, very neurotic to the point of licking himself bald on his stomach, and parts of his legs. Yet, he’s the only cat that will let us carry him around like a sack of potatoes, or be completely relaxed being held upside down.
My cats send good thoughts your way.
Mr Bus Guy
05/29/2008 02:44 PM Reply
Thank you so much for this. Your comment helps me affirm that they don’t feel like we’re betraying them.