Mourning the loss of a pet.....

Almost 17 years ago, when I began my teaching "stint" in Louisa at Louisa High School, one of the teachers there informed me they had found a kitten in the parking lot, about six weeks of age.  Being a "sucker" for a stray, I brought him home that day to my new house, and life pretty much would never be the same. 

The little terror ruined my pants by using them as a scratching post, tore into my couches, and woke me up nightly with his kitten-like shenanigans throughout the house.  Despite all of the inconveniences, Taz stole my heart very easily.   On the nights I felt so lonely and afraid, he was there to be my snuggle buddy.  On the days I cried because some guy had dumped me or treated me poorly, Taz was there to ease the pain.

On March 28th, Matthew and I were at Kroger doing our weekly grocery shopping, when the hubby called to let me know that Taz was upstairs screaming in pain.  We hurried home (30 minute drive), to find that he was having seizures.  The poor cat had many issues.  One week after we brought Matthew home from the hospital, Taz began drinking more water than normal, vomiting, and using the catpan more often than usual.  My incredible veterinarian (and friend) diagnosed him with diabetes, and so the insulin shots twice a day ensued.  Two weeks before his death, he had gone blind and was diagnosed with high blood pressure, to which I had to give him a pill twice a day.  In January, he was diagnosed with arthritis, and then glucosamine in his food was given to ease his pain.

We gave him a good life.  He had another seizure on the way to the Veterinary Referral and Critical Care (Dr. VanBeek, you are awesome!).  It was thirty minutes of torture and I talked to him the entire ride.  I thought he had died on the way, but when I turned the corner into the vet's office in tears, I asked if he was still with me, and he meowed.  He had another seizure in the veterinarian's office as they put the shunt in to put him to sleep.  I went to see him one last time in the operating room, and kissed him, and let him know that he would not hurt any more.  I told him Dakota was waiting for him to play where there is green grass, rainbows, and happiness.

Together at last!

John and Matthew dug a grave for him while I was gone.  We have planted flowers there, and await their arrival.  It was a gut-wrenching event for our little guy who had gotten so attached to our feline friend, that he could not stop crying.  

Saturday night, Matthew had a dream that Taz walked up to him in the front yard, and told him, "I have been healed by human hands. Don't cry for me because I don't hurt any more."  I do not think I have ever heard anything so profound from a seven year old!  He also said, "I am not sad any more Mommy because I know he is with God and he is okay."

I still cry.  When I go for a walk in our neighborhood, I pass his grave and shed a tear.  Did I make the right decision too late?  Only God knows the answer to that one.  Love your fur babies my friends....they were put here on earth for a very special reason!

We love you Taz cat....forever in our hearts.