Crashing

Today we’re trying a little something different. Are you ready? Your word is below. Take the next ten minutes to write about the first single memory that word calls up. Focus on the emotions and the experience, spend ten minutes really exploring that memory. Then wrap it up, publish, and come back to link up.

Crash.

I felt it in my stomach.

The two younger cats were showing undue curiosity about the space on the other side of my end table.  I got up to see what had grabbed their attention.

My oldest, Cat, Herself, Mistress of All She Surveys, was lying on the floor on her side.  Her front legs outstretched, claws scrabbling for purchase on the wood floor.  Her hind legs drawn against her body, not moving.

I touched her gently, she made no sound, didn't acknowledge my presence.  I carefully picked her up, something she despises.  I sat with her in my lap.  She finally looked at me, stood and leapt lightly to the floor again.

She stayed on her feet, though her backside swayed  with each step.  I followed her to the next room.  She jumped to the kitchen counter easily.

Crisis averted?

I don't know.  She is fifteen years old.  I know our time left is short.

I'll be watching her closely.

The next crash will be the breaking of my heart...

Selfish Pain

This week we asked you to explore your worst memory.




He'd been through so much. Arthritis in his rear legs and hips. His front legs were beginning to show signs also. A neurological problem in his hips made his front legs have to do most of the support. 

He had an ongoing antibiotic resistant ear infection. The odor was awful, sickly sweet and rotten all at once. Ear washes and cocktails of meds. The infection would finally go away, only to return in another month. Along with the ear infection were fleshy growths that bled if he scratched too hard. 

He was fourteen, not young for a dog. Most of his teeth were gone. The problems in his hips meant his tail couldn't speak for him anymore. . The arthritis meds were supplemented with pain pills. He slept more and more. 

One day he refused to take the pills. No matter how we tried to give them. He wasn't tricked by food around them. We couldn't force his jaws open to push them down. As pained and frail as he'd become, his stubborn streak was still strong. 

For two night we were awakened by his barking. I'd go into the other room to see what was bothering him. He'd be gazing past me at something I couldn't see. 

The second night I sat up with him until morning. At 7:30am I made the call. Choking through tears I explained that it was time.  The receptionist at the vet's office was sympathetic, asked if I was sure. I was. The appointment was made. 

It was fast and painless. For him. I knew it was the right thing to do. Selfishness had kept him in pain too long. 
. 
I am a cat person.  But cats have their own agenda. They come and go as they please. 

Ari, my Shih Tzu was often underfoot.  Following me from room to room.  There is still, two years later an empty spot in my heart.  And an empty spot at my feet. 

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It's been two years and i still miss him. We did adopt a troubled dog last year. I try not to compare. It's hard still.