But it’s the right thing to do.
On Thursday, after weeks of waffling and wondering and pilling and weighing and examining, will come the day when our beloved kitty Cinnamon will leave us.
I am so, so sad. But it is time. We had a meeting of all concerned — BDH, myself, That Girl, Cinnamon, our vet — and we came to the conclusion that it’s really all there is to do for her now.
At her last weigh in, she was down to 5.8 pounds. Her optimum weight is around 10 pounds or so. She’s incredibly thin, and her weight continues to plummet, despite my feeding her five, six, even ten times a day. And if we were to go on vacation (as we plan to do) and leave her in the care of our very competent but still once-a day cat sitters, she would simply starve to death.
Whatever is wrong with her, we cannot fix. And invasive testing — which, for a cat who is terribly afraid and stressed by anything but her creature comforts at home — would perhaps reveal what is wrong, but would more likely kill her and her failing heart in the process. And even if we found something, we cannot fix it.
We love her terribly. She is the sweetest, gentlest little cat I have ever known. She’s neurotic as a ‘fraidy cat can be, goodness knows, but she is lovely and soft and at 16, even despite her thin frame and matted fur, still looks like the kitten who came to us all those years ago.
I will miss her. I will miss her kisses. I will miss her insistence that my yoga classes were actually “kitteh yoga” as she would lay on my mat or get her floofy tail all up in my downward dog. I will miss the stretch she does when she gets up, as she walks, where she stretches her right paw out in front like a raised fist and BDH and I will both say “AFRIKAAAAAA!” in solidarity.
I will miss how, in recent weeks, she has decided she needed to sit on my lap and get pets, something she has not done in many years.
I will miss her so very much. But not so much, I think, as BDH will. For she is His Kitteh, and she chose him as Her Person from the second she laid eyes on him. She pins him down and grooms his hair (if he lets her). She sleeps with him every night. She comes to comfort him when he is sick. She adores him.
I’m pretty sure he loves her, too.
But it is time. Euthanasia, while never a happy choice, is a very important one in that we can ensure that our loved ones can come to the end of their lives peacefully, without suffering, without pain. Often times it’s one that is made too late, because we can’t bring ourselves to say goodbye to our beloved companions.
We were determined this would NOT be the case for our sweetest little Cinnamon. We did not want her to suffer. And, as we did with Opus — as we would do for them all — we are having a house call, so that her last moments will be in the comfort and familiarity of a place she knows and with the people who love her most in this world.
I don’t want her to go. It’s so hard to say goodbye to her. And this week is going to suck so much.