Sometimes grief is unspeakable. It punches you in the gut and leaves you breathless. Like my dear friend Abigail I just put down after 21--almost 22-- years of unspeakable joy together. I knew this day would come. I didn't know it would come on September 11, 2013 --an awful anniversary filled with so much grief for other people. My sweet feline was a fighter until the end. The vet had to give her a second shot because she was kicking and screaming until the bitter end which haunts me. But, I knew it was time.
Yesterday, I came home and found her in the hallway (not one of her favorite creature comfort places like her princess bed or the sock drawer). She was stretched out on the hallway to my bedroom and letting out little cries. It wasn't because of our record heat lately you can be sure I cranked the A/C for her. And, it didn't seem like she was in pain--but, she wasn't moving around and wasn't eating or drinking. And, she didn't drink or eat or move overnight from her princess perch where I placed her on my bed right beside me where she has always been for almost half my life. I prayed she'd tell me--let me know in some small way that it was time to let her go.
When I got home from work today (I work the overnight shift basically) I just knew. We had a good long talk about it as I tried to trickle water into her mouth with my fingertip to soothe her dry throat. I asked her if it was time and she continued to let out little cries. She was always vocal (hence the nickname Crabigail Van Buren Davis like her vocal columnist counterpart). But, I knew I had to make this decision for her...not me. And, everything in me said yesterday--give it one more day--maybe she'll go on her own because (selfishly) I didn't want to bear the brunt of that decision.
So today I got up the gumption to go to the vet. It was one of the hardest decisions ever. Me, myself and I going alone with my treasured companion to make a life or death decision. And, the dufus reception person at Lakewood Animal Hospital (that I generally love) asked me if I had an appointment. I wanted to scream out--if you think I wanted to make an appointment to kill my baby girl than you are F*****D. I just had to get there and do it before she suffered any longer. If I had to make a call I would have freaked the f out even more! For Heaven's sake offer some sensitivity to those people on the front lines because that lady was all about an appointments and fitting in my beloved Abigail's death into their schedule. I bet she's never LOVED a pet. I mean, I bet she's TRULY never loved a pet.
But, there was more than sensitivity by the vets who saw us. They were class acts. Abigail didn't want to go. She was hanging on for me despite her body slowly giving out and her inability to move or hold up her head. Her eyes were bone dry while mine were filled with tears that slowly plunked down on her princess bed (which I carried her in on) and her soft gray fur.
So, I prayed for the peace that passes all understanding because I knew it was up to me and I would have to make a life or death decision. I held her hand in the car (she always told me it was a paw but to me it was as comforting as a human's hand). She held mine every night often reaching out in the wee hours to touch me with her gray toes with the one white wee spot in the sprays of fur on one of them. And, she cried. And, I saw that gray-goose black spot on the roof of her mouth that I used to make fun of when she yawned really big. And, I knew it was time for the big sleep. But, it didn't come easy. I would have to do it alone. And, I reassured her in the car--it's just you and me--princess like always---and I'm right here for you. And, I was---but I sort of glazed over during my heave sobbing because I knew in that vet's office a part of me was dying too. And, it did. And, the vets all commented on what a fighter she was and how I was doing the right thing. In my gut I knew it...but, it was still gut-wrenching to watch my girl in her last moments. They always say they will continue to move or let out breaths even after they have moved on...and she did. I envisioned her hovering above and watching me holding onto her and sobbing. And, it reminded me of my dad's passing. I knew he was gone...but as I walked back to the car from the hospital and looked at the sky above I had a feeling he was looking down, too. And, now dear sweet Abigail is too. I told her she would see my dad who would be waiting with open arms. And, as I held Abigail in my arms I reassured her she would see her dear companion Hannah who passed many years ago when Abbey was still relatively young. And, now they are all together...frolicking and wondering why I am in so much grief when we had such great times together on earth and they're now free of their pain and cares of the world.
So, as I sit here on September 11, 2013 after losing one of my best friends --my heart is heavy for all who lost loved ones in this month and date more than a decade ago. I know most people will say a pet can't compare to a person and I realize that. But, I also realize Abigail has been a true-blue and trusted companion of mine for more than two decades. It's not easy finding that in a human friend let alone a trusted furry one.
Miss Abigail--I hope I did right by you. I pray I did. I could not watch you suffer needlessly because of my need to keep you around. I hope that it's final act of love that I could give to you--my sweet girl --because right now I'm doubled over in grief realizing you are not a part of my visible world anymore. I'll miss you and love you ALWAYS just like I told you in life every single day. Until we meet again sweet baby, until we meet again.

P.S. Grettah (Van Susteren in tribute to Abbey's nickname that evolved when Grettah was a baby--she's now 13) still wants to know if she'll get the same treats for breakfast I've been giving you every morning to keep you fat and happy. Just kidding. She misses you too and our house is not the same and never will be--- but you will always have prime REAL estate in my heart buttercup. Good bye Pumpkin. love you always. I am heart broken. I will go to sleep thinking and treasuring your unconditional love and trying to emulate it every single day. YOU WERE THE BEST. And now--believe it or not--Grettah is sleeping on the bed at night when she normally (as you know) slept in the sock drawer at night. I think she knows that both of us now are in need of major creature comforts. Bless you Sissy. I will love you forever.