Mourning the Loss of Stanley

We had him “put to sleep” Friday at the vet’s. He was 12 1/2 years old and had been suffering from kidney disease for some months. He had lost a lot of weight over the last 3- months: from 15.5 lbs. down to 9.4 last week. He didn’t seem all that sick except for the vomiting and not eating. He could still do wind sprints  thru the house at 4am and jump from the floor to the bed or desk easily. However  last Thursday night he had gotten very quiet and would go away by himself to places not normally his habit, like under the desk in the den or under Jean’s table in the sewing room.

I say quiet because he always noisily demanded to go outside – meowing, howling incessantly. We kept him inside because if let out, he would invariably go across the street to Joan’s front yard or over to the court, and we feared he would get run over as a few cats in the neighborhood had.

The night before we took him to the vet, I found him under Jean’s table in the sewing room. Normally at bedtime Stan would come to bed with us and usually spend most the night sleeping with us. I thought about laying down next to him on the floor, but didn’t. Later that night I got up for my usual trip to the bathroom and saw him going from the sewing room to our bedroom. Under our bed was also a favorite place of his to hide. I went back to bed and sure enough he was soon up on the bed beside me and laying on my chest for petting and hugs and kisses. He stayed with me for a while and then returned to his retreat in the sewing room where we found him next morning. I had tossed one of my shirts next to him thinking it might be a comfort.

He was still very lethargic, didn’t want to lift his head or move around –  and that is when we decided that it was time. We made a 10 o’clock appointment at the Cat Hospital of Clayton. We took him there wrapped in my shirt and a big towel instead of his cat carrier. He was quiet and made no protests. Normally in the carrier he would complain all the way there and back – he hated going to the vet. But this time he made not a peep. Dr. Linda Miller first injected something in his rump and he hissed and growled a little. She said it would take 5 or 10 minutes to take effect. His eyes began to glaze over in a few minutes. Dr. Linda came back in and shaved one of his paws, put a tourniquet-like thing on it and injected something into his paw and then listened for his heartbeat and said, “He’s gone”. We cried and cried and they left us with him. After a few minutes we left Stanley and went home. I cry now thinking about it.

Why do we mourn for a cat? Because Stanley was not just a cat. Stanley was more friend than cat; more companion than animal; more lover than pet. And that is what we mourn – the loss of that friend, companion and lover.