Inside My Mind

I Miss You

I don't think recovery from this depression is going to be a quick one. Sometimes I know when I have turned the corner but every time I even see the corner something else goes wrong. I don't mean something small either. I mean something big.

Friday, March 17, 2006, marked the death of our 11 year old cat, Butterball. I had taken the day off to rest, relax and rejuvenate. Everyone around me said I needed a day like that. I had planned to do nothing more than get up and let the day unfold. I had an idea that I would finish the homework the therapist gave me. Nothing huge. I just need to finish the last few pages of a book I haven't finished. I can't seem to find the energy to pick it up and finish it. Considering that I love to read, this is rather odd. We thought if I could just pick it up, I would find my passion for reading again. Who knows? That might kick start my passion for life.

But, I digress. I got out of bed at an absolutely lazy 10:00 in the morning. The first thing I noticed was the absence of Butterball from his usual spot on the bed. I went to find him. He was in none of his usual haunts. I looked under the kitchen sink, on top of the sofa, in the computer chair and in his chair. He wasn't there. He was hiding in my closet. He had opened the door and was hiding in there. That is when I knew, I knew I would remember this day always.

After frantic phone calls to my husband and friend, my friend and I managed to wrangle Butterball to the Dove Lewis Animal Hospital. (If you are an animal lover, please consider Dove Lewis in Portland, OR as a wonderful place to donate money.) The vet at first said it was possible a bladder infection. I knew it wasn't that.

After digital radiographs (which are for another post), the doctor spoke with me. Butterball appeared to have lymphoma. He needed an ultrasound to be sure. I said please. I wanted to know what was wrong with my precious orange tabby. He recommended I go home and wait for news there. I then knew that it wasn't going to get better.

I am a horrible person when it comes to waiting on news. Time seemed to freeze. The clock didn't tick. Every second seemed a lifetime. Finally, at 6:00 the news came in. Butterball had lymphoblastic lymphoma. He had a large abdominal mass and his lymph nodes were septic. They needed one more test to see if he could be treated.

The long and short of it is that he could not. He was in pain and he was going to die. I left the ultimate decision to Paul because I wasn't strong enough to make it. Those last minutes that Butterball were in our lives were the most heartbreaking moments I have ever had with a pet. He is in God's hands now. He is with Betty keeping her company while she waits for the rest of us to come home. Love can heal all wounds and it does take time.

I miss you, Butterball. I miss you too, Mom. Love to all.

posted by Louise @ 8:26 PM