Yesterday was tough, I had to make one of the decisions I hate making, the what is best for one of my animal decision. In fact on this occasion I didn't make it, my vet did, as I refused too, which was strange. One of my cats became sick around two weeks ago, and we had tried everything, nothing was working, and although he was on a drip, he was showing no improvement.
I took him to the vets yesterday morning, the vet knew instantly he had feline AIDS, I refused to agree, and clung to some last hope it was something else. I made the vet do the test, although we knew what the results would be, and needless to say it was positive. There is no cure for AIDS, and the kindest thing to do is to be put to sleep.
However, I refused, which I do not know why, as I knew he would die suffering and in pain, but as I clung to my cat in the vets, asking him to save him, at that moment I wanted a miracle. The vet and I looked at each other, him telling me he could not save the cat, and me basically demanding he saved the cat.
I refused to give him the cat, so he calmly walked to the fridge got what he needed and walked towards me. In any other situation the vet has to wait for me to utter those words, but he could see they were never going to come, so in my arms he administrated the drugs, and Nosey went to sleep. The tears begun to fall, and I left with my cat, and my heart broken again.
The journey home always allows me to cry, to get it out before I reach home, but yesterday the tears didn't stop, and for 45 minutes I felt them roll down my face and drop onto my lap. Did it make me feel better no, and I do believe that one day there will be no more tears left. Although the decision to put him to sleep was of course the right one, it sure as hell didn't feel right at that moment.
It really is the hardest thing to say to your vet, "give my pet, my loved family member an injection that will kill it" and it will never get easier. Maybe you were crying not just for Nosey but for all the animals that pass through your hands. Just proves your human, Louise, and everything you have to do on a daily basis hasn't made you into a block of ice. The compassion is still there. I don't know you from a bar of soap but, reading these blogs, I think you have the right balance to do what you do. And a good cry every now and then does us all the world of good. So sorry about your baby, Nosey.ReplyDelete