I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about today and didn’t want to miss the entire week. I decided to share about my beautiful baby girl, I had for about 19 years. It was Misty, a stray I adopted and had fallen in love with who brought Holy Terror to me. What struck me about Holy Terror was her beauty. She had the most beautiful blue eyes and silky smooth brown and beige hair. What I didn’t account for was how loud she could be telling me exactly what she wanted and when, meaning now. Twice she broke into my therapy room by squeezing herself under the divider. Fortunately for me because she was so beautiful, no one minded. Today the house is eerily quiet. Her brother has cried out only once after I came home without her. He has been a source of comfort but the house feels empty without her. I have cancelled all appointments outside including the two day conference in Markham not to leave Mr Attitude alone. I didn’t want pets this last time around because I enjoyed my lifestyle that I knew pets would alter. However, no one wanted these animals and they were going to be put down since they were considerd too wild to ever tame. It is surprising what love, security and consistency does not only for animals but for children too. Holy Terror had been having some difficulty whenever she went to the litter box or outside to defecate. When she wanted to go into my tv stand with one door closed underneath, I made a bed for her there. Holy Terror always wanted to be my side. If I went out, she came too. She never strayed too far from the back deck or front yard. If I worked on the computer, she would raise her paws onto my chair for me to move or pick her up so she could stay close. No matter where I was, she wanted to rest on me. So, when I saw her discomfort and couldn’t find her in the house and she had missed her morning meal, I was afraid that I would find her dead. She was hiding in the basement and this was the first time I could get her into a pet carrier. Once she was in my car, she yelled her annoyance half way to the hospital. I drove as carefully as possible with her trying to make her journey as comfortable as possible. At one point I had to swerve to the left because the driver of a parked mega truck, failed to check if the road was clear and came out quickly, causing me to swerve not to hit it. I was surprisingly calm, since my focus was Holy Terror and not the terrible drivers in my city. I went to the pet emergency hospital and the drive around where I normally would park to bring her in was now full of construction. So, I left the car on the roadway at the stop sign with my four way flashers on. After she went into triage and I provided all the info. I went out to see if my car was still there. It was and I was grateful that the parking people didn’t give me a ticket. I drove around trying to find a parking space and then saw a limousine driver get a spot. I asked the driver if he needed the spot, since my pet was at the hospital. He gave it to me (we have very kind people in Toronto). I went to pay my nine dollars for three hours and I rushed back to the hospital. They wanted me there ASAP. They were surprised I got a parking space and in no time I was informed that Holy Terror’s vitals were fine. However, I knew that she wasn’t fine. I returned to put more money into the meter (I need a smart phone). I went to place the new paid stub of nine dollars on the dash of the car and boy oh boy, I find a 50.00 parking fine waiting for me. I examine the parking sign along with a construction worker and we both find it confusing. Why did I get a ticket? There are parking meters all around the area with signs indicating when one could park. Doesn’t matter. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Looks like I have to pay 78.00 for this trip to the hospital (no. I would pay much more). I drive around and on the same street as the hospital where I have parked before to take Misty there, I find a spot as one driver is leaving. I park and examine exactly where I am. There is another meter, cars parked on the entire street and I carefully examine the sign, the same as the other. I notice a no parking sign and really find it confusing. There is an arrow showing that parking is only available just in front of me. There is one car and motorcycle there and no more room. I am baffled. How is it possible that there are only two spots on an entire street, full of cars and meters. I call parking customer service listed on my ticket and talk to a man about the confusion. He is sorry and tells me to contest the fine. I tell him that I will pay it, (for peace of mind) but that if I find it confusing, how do visitors to this city find it? It should be simple. I park in an underground parking and return to the hospital via walking tunnels. There is no way I would go through this area after nightfall. I decide I will have to take a taxi in future and hope they accept pets. The female Vet comes to talk to me. I approve the testing she recommends since I know there is something wrong though all the preliminary is fine. She suggests I go for lunch, that it will take a while and so I walk to Yorkville and go to Flo’s, a restaurant I used to go to when I was a student at the University of Toronto. You need a buzzer now to get it, but someone lets me in. I take an elevator to the floor and I recognize it as the same, but more worn. It is badly in need of freshness. The outside patio is bare of people and I know it is too cold for me for a sit down, the waiter agrees. He clears a table for me inside, but it is not my favourite seat where I can watch the people walking below. I order my meal and it doesn’t taste the same as I remember it. Has it really been 14 years? No, but at least 11 years. It is still a university favourite as I hear three International students speak. I feel outdated here. Yet, there are people here older than myself. I feel misplaced. I eat my meal, provide a generous tip and realize that this will be the cheapest I will spend this day. I walk back to the hospital and finally the same Vet comes to get me. She wants to go through the details. I am looking at a chart on the computer that is mostly green and she goes through all the positive. Everything is all good and then I notice the red. There are quite a few charts. I must have copies but I folded everything and placed it into my purse. She has found a poly in her rectum. I look at the photo of the polyp and it seems rather big to me. The vet provides me with options. Just to determine if the polyp is cancerous, surgery would need to be conducted to cut the polyp out and surrounding tissue. If cancer is involved it is an entire story. Then there are the additional complications because of the area. I think of my beautiful happy nineteen year old baby as I realize I am going to have to let her go. Tears form and I think the Vet is going to cry too. As tears continue, she shows me the x-ray or scan of her spinal cord and how that is worn due to her age. She can’t jump anymore like she used to. And then, the final heartbreak is that her kidneys are starting to diminish. The Vet will get ready to bring Holy Terror back and describes how she will die. I already know. I think of MAID. I think of my last long living cat who I also had for 19 years and had the vet come to my house to put him down. He had found it difficult to do because he had so many animals he had to put down in the same week. Someone comes in to take more money to put her down. I wait and then the attendant brings her in all bundled in a warm portable bed. He tells me she is a real sweet cat. I appreciate the comment. I can see that she has won hearts at the hospital with her beauty and kind nature. I can have as much time with her as I like but I ask for four to five minutes, because I don’t want to extend the pain. I kiss her tiny head until I feel she is becoming wet by my kisses and wrap my arms gently around her and she begins to purr and this makes it harder. She is happy to see me. I kiss her tiny face and she just keeps on purring with pleasure. She is home because she is with me. The Vet comes in and as I am holding her and feeling her little head, I see the fluid draining into her and then her little tongue hangs out. “Is she gone?” The Vet listens for a heart beat and there is none. I mention to the Vet that it must be hard for her. She tells me that this was a very peaceful death and she was 19 years old. So, I sit here and share this with you. At some point before her death I had thanked her. I merely said “thank you.” She has brought me so much joy and I shall miss her voice wanting me to stop working or to hold her or anything else she wanted. She has been the star of my books. I believe in God. I want to believe she is in heaven playing and having a great time with my family and other pets.
I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Til next week.
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