Feed on

We said goodbye to Maggie on October 14.  She was 16 and cat sibling to Chester; he made his transition in April.

Maggie’s passing was much more difficult than Chet’s.  She was present to the end; Chester had checked out but for a faint heartbeat, about 12 hours before the euthanasia.  His spirit was all around us, lively and happy and healthy so it made the black rag of his useless body seem irrelevant.  I was relieved when his transition was complete.  We missed him but Maggie comforted us and we went smoothly back to our lives.

I was getting ready to leave town for a week when I got a subtle impression that Maggie was beginning to move out of her body.  I told her my plans, then asked if I should reserve a veterinarian for the following day, “just in case”.  Her “yes” was remarkably clear: this rickety, arthritic cat who’d all but stopped eating and stumbled when she walked, staggered over and rubbed her cheek against me in a loving display I hadn’t seen in months.

Of course, I thought.  And suddenly–she doesn’t want it to go as far as it did with Chet.  She didn’t want to tinkle on herself, or have that wretched kidney smell or be unable to stand.  She didn’t want to drool and lose her dignity.  Chet didn’t care about that.  He was having an Experience.

I talked to a friend, who reminded me that I could trust my instincts.  But it was the morning of the big day, we had an appointment with a vet at 4:00 and Maggie seemed a little better.  I panicked.

People call me all the time to confirm what they already know.  I needed someone to be that person for me.  I got out the big guns and called my teacher.

Up Next:  Maggie\’s Gone



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