8.01.2009
REST IN PEACE MAXIMUS
Unknown-08/01/09 [15-20 yrs]
In 2004 my mother died and I inherited a cat. An 18lb orange tabby my brother had named Maximus on account of his size. You see my mother had adopted him from some Ironton trailer trash. Being recently separated from a longtime feline friend (another neutered male), he was needy. He would hug and use his mind bending purrs to achieve his goals of unending massage.
I promised my mom that I would look after the cat when she moved into the hospital/hospice and soon after became his owner. He has been my roommate for the past 4 yrs. Best cat eva. I once turned down an offer for $2500 to sell him. This was no ordinary cat. Regal. Expressive. Sometimes pissy and abusive. Other times almost courteous. I don't understand it.
Last week the vet explained he had "water around his heart". I had specifically not heard that phrase since it was used to explain my mom's condition in her final days. The x-rays showed heart failure / liver cancer and he was sent home with a diuretic Rx and no eta but terminal nonetheless.
Only a matter of time.
I had underestimated my attachment to this animal. Did Max represent some vicarious connection to my mother's memory? Or was it just that I was used to having him around? Or was I just being a big baby?
Whatever the cause I was prone to random bouts of tears on the bus, all day, and often when I would leave work in the morning trying to gauge his breathing.
His last week was spent dining on wet food and getting as much attention as he desired.
As the week went on I began to realize there were no viable taxidermy options, and max was slowly deteriorating. I set the appointment 2 days ago. The lady called it 'euthanasia'. A word I had subjectively ascribed to referring to human death of some sort - not animal. I considered the implications of our pets being allowed a painless death while our relatives our made to suffer and wallow? It made me want to go back in time and feed my mom the best key lime pie.
Last night his breathing became much worse and jerky. He made it through the night without crying but wouldn't eat this morning. I knew termination was the best thing for him.
My cabbie got wind of the situation en route to the vet. He proceeded to tell me about how his 19yr old dog had a stroke and died 3yrs later the same day that his dad died of stroke. WTF. Also his cancerous 10yr old feline was on holistic meds. Suddenly my story didn't seem so pitiful. Somehow this helped me to once again regain that pragmatic lens.
Literally my only question for the tech was "Can I push the syringe myself?".
"No, I'm sorry." she replied.
Unknown-08/01/09 [15-20 yrs]
 |
| From Maximus' Last Day |
In 2004 my mother died and I inherited a cat. An 18lb orange tabby my brother had named Maximus on account of his size. You see my mother had adopted him from some Ironton trailer trash. Being recently separated from a longtime feline friend (another neutered male), he was needy. He would hug and use his mind bending purrs to achieve his goals of unending massage.
I promised my mom that I would look after the cat when she moved into the hospital/hospice and soon after became his owner. He has been my roommate for the past 4 yrs. Best cat eva. I once turned down an offer for $2500 to sell him. This was no ordinary cat. Regal. Expressive. Sometimes pissy and abusive. Other times almost courteous. I don't understand it.
Last week the vet explained he had "water around his heart". I had specifically not heard that phrase since it was used to explain my mom's condition in her final days. The x-rays showed heart failure / liver cancer and he was sent home with a diuretic Rx and no eta but terminal nonetheless.
Only a matter of time.
I had underestimated my attachment to this animal. Did Max represent some vicarious connection to my mother's memory? Or was it just that I was used to having him around? Or was I just being a big baby?
Whatever the cause I was prone to random bouts of tears on the bus, all day, and often when I would leave work in the morning trying to gauge his breathing.
His last week was spent dining on wet food and getting as much attention as he desired.
As the week went on I began to realize there were no viable taxidermy options, and max was slowly deteriorating. I set the appointment 2 days ago. The lady called it 'euthanasia'. A word I had subjectively ascribed to referring to human death of some sort - not animal. I considered the implications of our pets being allowed a painless death while our relatives our made to suffer and wallow? It made me want to go back in time and feed my mom the best key lime pie.
Last night his breathing became much worse and jerky. He made it through the night without crying but wouldn't eat this morning. I knew termination was the best thing for him.
My cabbie got wind of the situation en route to the vet. He proceeded to tell me about how his 19yr old dog had a stroke and died 3yrs later the same day that his dad died of stroke. WTF. Also his cancerous 10yr old feline was on holistic meds. Suddenly my story didn't seem so pitiful. Somehow this helped me to once again regain that pragmatic lens.
Literally my only question for the tech was "Can I push the syringe myself?".
"No, I'm sorry." she replied.
< 23:28 >< /~ chad >
