This past Monday, I noticed my little Lucy wasn’t acting right. Moping around the house and laying on the floor most of the day, I figured she just caught a little bug of some sort and would be over it in a day or so. So I waited.
Tuesday, the same thing. But I noticed she hadn’t really eaten anything either. And she kept going to my bathtub and laying in it. Then when Marcus came home Wednesday, I made the call to the vet and he took her in. She was so weak and listless. I knew something was terribly wrong.
The vet said he didn’t see any noticeable signs of infection – her color looked good, her fecal matter was fine, and she didn’t have a fever. He had no idea why she wasn’t eating but concluded that she was dehydrated and asked Marcus to leave her there for IV fluids. So he left her with instructions to pick her up by 5 because that’s when they close.
So our family went on to have a wonderful day. We went to the beach and had a really fun time. The water was clean and clear as crystal. The waves were calm and you could see the bottom. A rarity for this part of the Gulf. At 4 p.m., we loaded up and headed straight to the vet’s office to pick her up.
Marcus got her and set her on my lap in the car. She was still very weak in spite of the fluids. They gave us some high calorie stuff in a tube to try and stimulate her hunger with instructions to put some on her paw. When we got home, I did that. I put some on her paw. But she just sat there. Then I tried putting some in her mouth. Nothing. Not even a lick.
She found a spot to lay in the living room for a bit. Then by the time we sat down for dinner around 5:30, she had moved into E’s bathroom. As we finished up supper, we heard this awful cry come from the bathroom. Marcus (with Eli close behind) went to check on her. The floor was full of bile that she had just thrown up. Marcus quickly moved Eli to a safe place where he was corralled (and not very happy about it, I might add.) Then, while he went to look in the phone book to find an after hours hospital, I moved her to the bathtub in case she threw up again.
But she didn’t. As soon as I rolled her off the rug I used to transfer her to the tub on, she made one last audible gasp, then breathed her last breath. And that was it. She was gone.
I yelled at Marcus, “I think she just died.” He came to check on her and that’s when I lost it. I fell to my knees in the hallway and cried.
I watched her dying in front of me for the last two days. How could I have done that? Why didn’t I take her in sooner? I blamed myself. I blamed the vet. Why didn’t he do more?
I couldn’t believe she was gone. I was in shock and I cried all night. Sad that my little Lucy was suddenly gone.
So unbelievable. So sudden.
Marcus cleaned her up and buried her out back. He then cleaned the bathroom floor and the tub. And started the wash with the rugs. I sat in front of the tv, crying off and on. Dumbfounded. In shock. And sad. What a horrible thing to experience. I tried doing the dishes but uncontrollable sobs took over. Even though he was tired, Marcus came in to finish up for me.
At the end of the day, I know she’s just a cat. But she was the youngest of all our animals. Certainly not the one I expected to go first. And she was my baby.
I got her 5 years ago, when she was just three weeks old. So little. So cuddly. I called her my “little lover Lucy” because when she was young, she would sit on my shoulder as I watched TV and would give me little kisses. She still gave kisses. I miss that sound. She was a good companion to me for many years.
I miss her.
I still look for her. Expect to shoo her off the couch so I can sit down. And at night, it’s so odd without her sitting on my lap or curled up next to me. As I type it’s weird not to have her jumping on the desk, in front of the monitor, getting in my way as she makes her way up to the top of the hutch.
It’s oddly quiet without the sound of her little neck-bell ringing in the air. I hate that she will no longer make me laugh as she bats at the dog and makes chase around the living room. Or leap over furniture and knock things off the tabletops. Or frustrate me to no end when she insists on sitting on my lap when I’m not in the mood, only to give in to her persistence.
I wish she didn’t have to die so suddenly. Violently. I wish I could have changed that for her. But whatever killed her, did so quickly. Whatever pain she was in is gone now. And for that, I’m thankful.
I’m also thankful that it happened when Marcus was home. I don’t think I could have handled that all by myself. Nope. Not at all.
Most of all, I’m thankful for the joy and companionship she brought me for five years. She will always be in my heart. And I will always love her.
I miss you.