.
After the winter equinox, as days began to lengthen, my dawn wake-up call came earlier as time went on because with first light, Muffin needed to be fed.
In her old age she returned to the needs of kitten-hood, requiring food every two hours to keep her failing body going.
For a tiny creature, she had a very loud voice, but knowing her days were numbered, I was always happy to hear it. For weeks, I was in fact surprised and relieved as Muffin was so frail.
.
Then recently, even Muffin’s voice diminished and it was no longer that which propelled me from my bed, but the need to know whether she may have left us in the night.
Yesterday morning I was certain she would be gone, but she lifted her head and she sniffed at the food I offered.
As we ate breakfast though, she seemed to have some sort of turn. Convinced her time had come, we placed her in her favourite bed and I lay down beside her, but she continued to breathe. The other cats drifted by as if to say farewell. After some time she stirred, so I put her bed on the desk beside me so I could continue to watch and eventually she got up to walk.
In the past few weeks, Muffin had been taking herself to sleep in one of the enclosed boxes we kept beneath the front window. I suspected it was a sign of her withdrawing, as she had never done this before. After her short walk yesterday morning, she climbed once more into her box and through that very long day we checked on her constantly.
Just after 6 pm, Muffin’s tummy began to vibrate slightly, her legs twitched periodically and we sat waiting for the end. She was unconscious and not in pain. By six-thirty she was gone and we carried her up the hill to place her in the grave Grant had dug beside four of our other beloved cats including her old friend Penny.
.
These last months I was tormented by the struggle to know what was right, what was kind.
Muffin was frail and failing daily, but she was not in pain or distress. She wanted to be petted. Despite being fussy about her food, she ate enthusiastically once we had offered the right choice.
Almost all animals hate going to the vet and taking them there to be euthanised is dreadful for them. We once found a doctor who came to us, but here it was not possible.
.
In any case, as long as Muffin seemed to have the will to continue, why would we end her life? It was painful to see her grow weaker, but if she could go on, so could we. It had to be about her needs, not ours. We wanted her to leave in her own time, in peace, in the home where she was happy and so dearly loved.
You know when you have a beloved animal put to sleep, those few seconds after the injection is given, waiting for the doctor to say it’s over? Sitting with Muffin yesterday afternoon was like having those seconds played out in slow motion. Heart-breaking.
When it was over I had thought there would be relief from so many weeks of constant anxiety, pre-grief and mental turmoil, but all I could find was pain.
.
After we buried our sweet girl I took a photo from the grave site, then we walked back down to the house to feed the others.
.
When we lose our beloved animal companions we need to be thankful for the time we have had with them and to remember the joy they brought us.
We need to turn our attention to those who remain and to find comfort in them.
It’s what I should do and I will, when the backlog of grief built up in these last weeks has spilled out.
.
Lily just came by to offer her support.
It does help and so does writing about it, but I’m afraid it will have made animal lovers sad. Forgive me.
Somewhere I read that in every loss are all previous losses and when you invite animals into your life, there are likely to be many.
But without animals, my life would have been empty. I carry them all in my heart.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Thank you, Carolyn, for writing so beautifully about your loss, and am sorry, but no one can live forever, and her end with both of you close was better than a visit to a vet. Animals who were our friends, will be in our heart’s memory as long as we are here.
Joanna x
Thank you Joanna.
Truly sorry for your loss! 😔
Thank you. It means a lot.
Oh, such sad news. RIP, lovely Muffin. My thoughts are with you, dear Carolyn. She had the best life with you and Grant, and that is something you can take on board during your sadness.
Best wishes, Pete. xx
Thank you Pete. I know you understand all too well.
I’m so sorry you’ve lost your Muffin-kitty.
I’m glad she was able to leave without a vet visit.
Blessings to you and your family.
Thank you so much.
Such sad news Carolyn, but you should know that she died in her own time, with people and in a place she loved. We all hope for that. She lives as long as you remember her.
Thank you Colin. Yes…my heart is crowded with long-departed friends.
I am so sorry for your loss of Muffin.
You and Grant have taken such tender care of her.
I am grateful she was able to pass, at home, with you both, without the dreaded vet visit.
Thank you for writing so beautifully, about her life.
My heart goes out to you both, as you mourn her loss.
❤️❤️❤️
Thank you Catherine.
I am so very sorry for your loss Carolyn and Grant. Muffin was lucky to have you in her life, as you were lucky to have her. She will be missed, not only by you, but also by all of us who loved to hear of her, and by her fellow cats. Love to you all.
Thank you so much Peter.
So sorry to read this sad and painful news about your sweet girl Muffin. I hope you can find some comfort in the warm memories of her and cherish them in your heart.
You are in my thoughts, Carolyn. Sending you love and hugs.
Thank you Herman. I know you understand.
Oh, it’s sad to read about dear Muffin – one of your cats with the most beautiful eyes. It was as if you had prepared us (your readers) for this day in your recent posts. I cry with you today – it feels like I know your cats personally and when one of them says goodbye for the last time, I feel the loss with you. Sending my love to both you and Grant 💕.
Thank you so much.
It’s so sad that you no longer have Muffin, and so hard to bury a fur baby.
I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but we were housesitting our friends’ menagerie in Italy when one of the dogs died. Our friends knew that he was poorly but had to return to England for a week.
It was horrible. We were carrying him down the long driveway as he couldn’t walk anymore, wouldn’t eat, and I was beside myself (and I don’t usually get ruffled).
One morning, we found him just near the entrance door – he’d passed away during the night.
It was pouring rain when my partner and I had to dig a hole next to their other dog’s grave and bury him. We were both crying; it was the worst time.
Watching an animal die is awful. My mind keeps dragging me back to that last afternoon with Muffin. It’s torment and I need to let it go but I miss her so much.
It is and I hope with time, it gets a little easier for you, Carolyn. Sending you a hug. 🙂
Thank you so much.