God, I'll miss him

When my mother came visit, she brought her camera.  She's a world class photographer, and what better subject than my cats? 

Bubba felt differently, in fact, when she pointed the camera at him he began defecating.  It's the only time I saw her put the camera down. 

That's my Bubba, no photos please.  Except the ones in my slideshow.  He's the black cat. 

Yesterday, Bubba didn't want treats.  I found that alarming, but he seemed otherwise OK.  I didn't see him last night and assumed he was hunting.  He does that when the weather's nice.  Very hot or very cold weather would find him loafing in my bed. 

I used to tell him "You get the bed during the day, and we share it at night."  Past tense. 

We had today off, and I spent it at home.  I didn't see Bubba today, until after 5 PM.  I had stepped out to check the mail. 

When I came back, I saw Bubba and greeted him delightedly.  Then I realized, this cat is sick.  He was panting and gasping for breath, gurgling.  Horrible, tortured, meows. 

We called the vet, she had closed the office already  We called the emergency vet. 

Then I gave him some pain medicine, leftover from Baby Girl's spay surgery.  I'm not sorry I did it and the vet said I did the right thing. 

I brought out the carrier, and Baby Girl climbed inside.  Oh, boy.  Carrier!  She went in and out as Bubba labored to breathe, on the floor.  Oh, it was awful to watch.  She watched him closely, as serious as I've ever seen her. 

I opened the carrier by unscrewing all the screws on the sides.  I took a pillowcase off my bed, and one off Rons, placing them both into the carrier.  Then I gently picked Bubba up and laid him in the carrier.  I knew he was sick, he didn't fight.  I closed it up. 

The cab finally showed up at 6.  Rush Hour.  We rode to the clinic, and the driver said he hates to have crying passengers. He'd pick us up again if we weren't crying. 

I found that a rather odd request.  We went in. 

A very nice man took Bubs away as I showed the vet records to the receptionist.  She seemed impressed I'd remembered them. 

The vet came out very quickly and took us into a room.  Bubba was dying of heart failure.  There really wasn't any option.  Needles in his chest?  A couple weeks, at best?  No. 

I told her to let him go.  She left, I bought a diet Dr Pepper from the vending machine.  I absently noted it was a Dixie-Narco.  We have a couple in our location. 

Someone came in and asked what we wanted them to do with the body.  I asked them to *handle* it.  I did that with Frosty.  The body's just an envelope.  The spirit is gone to Heaven. 

They wanted me to pay before they did it.  I wondered it someone had actually run out on the bill after having their pet put down.  [censoreds] lousy pet owner. 

Ron handed over the credit card.  It wasn't too bad.  Less than $200.  I'd definitely pay to relieve Bubba. 

The vet told me, 4 different times, in 4 different ways, this is what she would have done if Bubba were her pet.  I felt better about that. 

I didn't want him to suffer.

Ron played his audio track of Bubba purring and eating treats, while I told the story of Bubba teasing the rottweiler.  The vet petted Bubba and talked nicely to him. 

Then we did it.  It was peaceful.  I kissed Bubba, one more time, in my favorite spot between his ears, and we left. 

I cried.  Of course.  Ron called the cab.  We got in with dry eyes and an empty carrier.  I told Ron, I feel like the carrier is a death hearse.  He suggested, since Baby Girl likes it, to place it on the floor, under the table, with the door open so she can play in it.  I did. 

I used my emergency money to pay for the cab each way - least I could do.  My glasses fund got a big setback but Bubba isn't suffering anymore. 

God, I'll miss him. He was my boy.  He slept with me.  He got on the couch with me while I did my God Time.  He slobbered on my Bible.  He threw up in my bed every time he had a hairball.   I feel sick at the thought of removing the mattress cover. 

Well, that's the end of the mania, that's for sure.  I had a nasty, month-long depression after I lost Frosty. Losing Frosty  I'm sure this will be horrific. 

I did bring a couple Bibles, and gave one to the vet, and one to the cab driver, along with plenty of testimony.  God uses everything - even Bubba's graduation, to bring people to Him. 

God knows Bubba had a good life, spoiled rotten.  Endless food bowl, treats, canned food, outside, pampered and adored. 

I thank God my last memory is a peaceful, deceased cat - not the agonized, tortured one, laboring for breath.  I did the right thing. 

But God, I'll miss him.