I started this after the worst day of my life. I was hoping it would be therapeutic. That I could write about that horrible day but also good things as well. I could never bring myself to finish it. Maybe I thought if I finished it I would forget everything or move on or that I would have to accept that my baby is never coming back. Obviously he is never coming back. Or maybe I thought it would never be good enough. This is true. It will never be good enough. I’ll never be able to convey the love I had for ‘a cat’ or what he truly meant to me. What also ended up happening was less than 3 weeks later we found out our other boy cat, George, had mouth cancer and only had 2-3 months to live. So while I never even got over the death of bun bun, I had to start dealing with the fact that George too was dying very soon. He ended up being put down on October 18th 2016 (about 3 months after bun bun). Why the world decided to take both our boys so close together is beyond me. They were the best cats. Another sidetone, I ended up getting cat scratch fever after dealing with that horrible day one year ago (July 15th 2016) & could have actually died myself. I got it taken care of quickly enough so was able to be cured.

That being said, here is what happened that day. Saddle Thrombus is every cat owner’s worst nightmare. You never know when it will strike so love your babies always. It’s affected me in such a way that I don’t ever want to get more cats. I’m sure I will but this day was the most traumatic of my life. This picture was the last one I took of my baby on July 3rd 2016, not even 2 weeks later he would be gone.

It’s Friday July 15, 2016. My alarm goes off at 6:20AM. I’m tired. I hit the snooze & actually fall asleep. It goes off again at 6:30AM and I lay there thinking about my day. I have to do a cleaning validation at work. It will be busy. It will go by fast. At 6:40AM I get out of bed. I open the bedroom door & I hear my cat meowing. It’s not a normal meow. It’s like he is yelling MEOW MEOW MEOW. It’s higher pitched. It’s loud. It’s short & he keeps saying it over & over. I run into the living room & he is laying on the floor by the ottoman. Still meowing in that strange way. He looks scared. I drop to my knees beside him. I’m getting close to hysterics. “What’s wrong baby? What is it?” MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!

I look all around. The other cats are watching. All of them. They look concerned. I’m looking all around to assess what could have happened. Thinking…

Is he asleep? He must be having a night terror. Can cats have night terrors? He must have fallen. Where could he have fallen from? There’s no way he could have fallen & ended up over here laying on his side. Maybe he tried to get to the top of the bookcase. Maybe he fell and crawled around the couch ending up over here. Yeah. That’s it. No. That can’t be. Maybe the other cats are bothering him. Yes. That’s it. They ganged up on him. I’ll bring him to the bathroom with me.

I lift him up & carry him to the bathroom. I lay him down on the floor. MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! He tries to sit up. He does sit up but then his back legs swing under him & he is only using his front legs to prop himself up. He has no control of his back legs. He must have broken a leg, or a hip, or his back.

I text my guy & say, “Bun got hurt.” I shut the bathroom door slightly. I run into the living room & grab my computer to find the vet’s phone number. My guy calls me. “What?!” I respond in a shaky voice saying that I didn’t know. I woke up & he was meowing strangely. MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! He can’t use his back legs. I’m trying to find the vet’s number. He tells me that he didn’t even see him that morning.

I’m thinking…So this happened sometime within the last 90 minutes since my guy leaves for work earlier than me. Maybe it literally just happened but at least I know it hasn’t been more than 90 minutes.

I call the vet. I am trying to hold back tears. The vet answers & I am starting to cry, “Um, my cat is hurt. He can’t use his back legs.” MEOW! MEOW! MEOW! “Can you hear him?” The vet asks what happened and I explain that I don’t know. I woke up and opened the bedroom  door & heard him crying. I thought maybe the other cats were bothering him so I brought him to the bathroom & he can’t use his back legs. The vet replies, “Is he aware of your presence?” I tell her yes. “How old is he?” I tell her that he is only 12. The response I get is, “Oh. Well bring him in.”

I leave the living room & open the door to my dressing room. I hear a strange scuffling on the floor and turn to see my kitty pulling himself across the hallway with his upper body & into my dressing room. He always had great upper body strength. In his old house he used to jump from the counter to the space above the kitchen cupboards and use his front legs to pull himself up. Kind of like a chin up.

He lays on my clothes that are on the floor. I grab a pair of jeans & a t-shirt & throw them on. I put my hair in a ponytail. I look around and dump out my clean clothes in a laundry basket onto the floor & throw in a couple of towels. I put him in the basket and bring him out to my car. I forgot my purse so I run back inside. I tell him to sit still. I’m afraid he will try to move & hurt himself. I see his eyes follow me. He looks scared & I can tell he doesn’t want to be alone. I grab my purse, get back to the car, & I drive fast. I make the 75 minute trip in just under 60 minutes.

During the drive all I can think about is that this is my last hour with my baby. I try to tell myself that he just broke something & he will be fine. He’ll get a cast. It will be OK. Deep down I know that something is very wrong. I’m trying not to cry so he won’t get more upset cause I am upset, but I can’t hold back the tears. I put my iPod on shuffle. I just need to relax. It will be OK. I end up skipping most every song except for Tori. He loves Tori.

I sing along with Tori. He calms down when Tori is singing. He shuts his eyes and raises his head slightly. The sun is shining down on him in the car. He is relaxing a bit. He has always loved Tori’s music. I was watching it on my computer and he heard it and came up to watch & listen.

I keep telling him that mommy will make it all better. I sing him his song. It’s the song I use to tuck him in every night. Yes he liked to be tucked in. One night I pet him a lot before I went to bed & talked to him a bit and from that point on if I didn’t “tuck him in” he would scream at the bedroom door until I did. So I would pet him every night and talk/sing, “Bunny Bun. Pretty bird. Sleep so good. He’s a pretty bird. Mommy loves you. Yes I do. You sleep good.” and I’d kiss him. He’d grip the couch and shut his eyes & would be quiet through the night.

He relaxes when I sing him his song.  I get to the vet & rush inside. The receptionist asks if I am the lady that called. I say yes. She tells me to go into the room to the left. I do. A technician comes in and asks me the same questions to which I give the same response. She asks, “Is he cold?” I tell her I don’t know. His head felt warm in the car but the sun was on him. She takes his temperature. I’m going to take it again she says. She does and replies that his temperature is 88-89F when it should be 100F. I’m thinking she needs another thermometer but she rushes off and comes back with heating pads & blankets. The vet walks in & goes over to him and starts petting him. She started pulling on his back legs. He doesn’t even flinch. She is pinching his toes. He is such a good vet kitty I think. He always has been. She pulls on his front paws and he pulls those away. She then looks to me…

“I’m afraid it’s pretty grave,” she says while nodding her head. I realize she is nodding her head so I will accept what she is telling me as truth. That’s what first responders do to people in shock. I can feel my head swimming. I feel dizzy. I know that I am in some sort of shock. She continues, “He has saddle thrombus. It’s a blood clot that is causing him to be paralyzed in his back legs & is causing this extreme pain. Cats with heart or thyroid conditions are pre-dispositioned to this.” And then a flashback happens. I remember when we was about 5 or so he had an abnormal test at the vet. They did some more tests & couldn’t find anything. They said I could keep testing him for other things but we didn’t cause everything appeared normal & he had no symptoms. This was probably an indicator of what was to come. Unfortunately, no one knows very much about saddle thrombus & unless he had been put on a blood thinner this was bound to happen. Even cats on blood thinning regiments still have the potential for saddle thrombus.

She goes on, “We can hospitalize him & hope he stabilizes soon. I’m afraid the outlook isn’t good. It’s affecting both his legs & his temperature is very low. If he does stabilize it will be a couple of months of home care. He might never regain use of his legs due to nerve damage. Even then a reoccurrence is highly probable since cats that suffer from this often have another episode & generally do not survive longterm.” I could tell she wanted to tell me to put him down but she couldn’t say it.

I stood there in complete shock. Every time she said something else it kept getting worse. He might not make it. If he does make it he might never be able to walk again. And then another blood clot will likely happen with survival longterm being not likely.

How can that be? He is so fit. He is the most active cat. He is always running about, playing with whatever he can find, and jumping high up on things.

I ask, “So he might die in the hospital?” She says yes. I think to myself that can’t happen. He is so needy. I coddled him. He loved to cuddle. He has separation anxiety. He has no idea what is going on. I can’t leave him here. Just at home he used his upper body to follow me. If he could have jumped out of the basket to follow me to get my purse he would have. I can’t leave him alone. He will be thinking it’s me coming in through the door and it will be a stranger. He hates strangers. He is a scaredy cat. He always hides when company comes over. She leaves for a moment. To go find out how much the hospitalization will cost. It doesn’t matter. Cost isn’t an issue. If I knew he could be saved I’d spend whatever it takes.

I’m staring down at my baby. I’m leaning over him, cradling him. His head is resting by my arm and both his arms are wrapped around my arm. I try to move my arm cause it is an awkward position and he grips it tight & his eyes widen. I can see the fear in his eyes. He doesn’t want me to leave. I tell him it’s OK and sing his song, “Bunny Bun. Pretty Bird. Sleep so good he’s a pretty bird.” I’m thinking that soon he will be sleeping forever. Why?! How could this be? He shivers but keeps gripping my arm tight. He starts to fade behind his eyes. He is dying right in front of me. The vet comes back.

I look up at her & ask, “How did this happen? He was just fine last night.” In my head I can see him being what we call twinkle toes. He is so light on his feet. I came home and he was happy and was running from room to room for no apparent reason as cats do. Mommies little baryshnikov. She tells me that is just how it happens. The blood clot breaks free and clogs his smaller arteries. She tells me there is nothing I could have done. She says that he is in a lot of pain & is scared so we need to make a decision soon, “Why don’t we give him some pain meds & a sedative so you can think a moment. Is there anyone you can call?” I wanted to scream at her…why didn’t we give him something right away! I tell her my husband is on a boat with low service but that I will go outside to think a moment. She takes him away to give him some meds.

I get to my car and text my guy everything that happened. He asks the same questions I did. I tell him what the vet told me. I google Saddle Thrombus and a blog comes up with exactly what I experienced. Of course in the title it says, ‘Every Cat Owner’s Worst Nightmare.’ How fitting. They woke up to find their cat meowing strangely & unable to move. Everything I read is as bleak as the vet described. Cats dying in the hospital, only 50% recover use of their legs, & the worst part…re-occurance is almost inevitable as only part of the clog has broken free. The rest of it is sitting in his heart like a time bomb. One that you will never know when it’s going to go off.

I try to calm myself down. I know I can’t leave him in the hospital. If it were one leg & his temperature wasn’t so low. If I hadn’t seen the fear of my leaving him in his eyes. If he hadn’t started to fade in front of me. He might never be able to fully walk again? All I could think of was what if he couldn’t run. He is the most active cat. What kind of life would that be. I know he’d be a trooper but would he be happy being bathed on a daily basis cause he can’t use his litter box properly? And then the worst part…most likely this will re-occur within a few months to a year. What if it happened while I was at work or worse…out of town. I’d come home to him being dead knowing he was there paralyzed & screaming in pain. I couldn’t imagine having him go through this again. I go in and tell the vet I’ve made my decision.

I’m waiting. The vet walks into the room holding him. He is looking all around with wide eyes. He looks confused, concerned, scared. At least he’s stopped screaming. He isn’t in pain any more. As she is walking him into the room she says in a chipper, happy voice, “There’s mommy!” He perks up cause he knows the word mommy and sees me. His eyes remain focused on me. I can see the fear leave his eyes. My heart breaks, but I also calm down at the same time, because I see him relax cause he saw me. She lays him down on the table & asks if I’d like a few minutes. I say yes. I wanted to tell her to give me as many as possible but I knew there would never be enough time so I didn’t say anything.

I bend down and look at him. I pet him and say “Hi baby”. He grips the table slightly (a love grip). I kiss his diamond head, pet him again, and ask him, “Who’s a sleepy boy?” He shuts his eyes slightly (sleepy, relaxed, squinty eyed) and love-grips again. The technician asks about the spelling of his name. OEDIPUS. It’s for the paw print they made. I can barely read the paper to verify the spelling. I tell her that is correct but ask if she can put Honey Bun on it instead. I tell her we only call him Oedipus when he is bad now. As if she cares.

I keep petting him but don’t speak. I just stare down at my baby. Petting him, soothing him, soothing myself. Relaxing. We both are relaxing. I know if I speak I will burst into tears & I don’t want him to be scared or know that I am upset. I can feel myself reaching a zen-like state if that makes any sense. Which is good. I know that now that my energy is more calm his is too (of course I’m sure the sedatives helped him also) but I’m glad I calmed down for him. Kind of like when a mom & baby are sleeping together & their heartbeats become one.

The vet comes in. I wanted to scream at her that the technician never left. We never got to be alone. She walks through the process. She says he will fall asleep & then his heart rate will continue to slow until it stops. She looks at him & says I think he likes his drugs. I almost chuckle & say yeah. He looks very relaxed from the sedatives. This is more or less how he looked laying on the table. Same direction, same expression.

She administers the shot slowly. I know she is doing it slowly so he literally will fall asleep & then die. In less than a minute it’s over. He is gone. His nose starts running. The vet grabs a tissue to go catch the fluid. I almost laugh cause he had a runny nose from time to time. She looks at me & hugs me tight. I’m not sure if I hug back or sit there limp. Either way I’m crying. She tells me she would have done the same thing. I say, you would? in a sad sobbing voice.

I bring him home. He looks like he is sleeping in the car ride home. Of course he would. He was sleeping when he died. Thank goodness he didn’t feel any pain in the very end. I dig his grave. I should have waited to bury him so my guy could have said his goodbye. I didn’t even think about that. All I could think about was that I had to dig. If I didn’t my guy would be upset that he had to come home from work to dig his grave. I’m not sure why I thought that. I wan’t thinking very clearly. What I should have thought was that I could dig but wait for the burial.

As I’m about to bury him I’m holding him and rocking back & forth. I’m crying hysterically saying, “My baby. My baby. My baby.” You know those scenes in the movies where a mother has lost her child. I give those actresses credit but it doesn’t compare to what it looks like in real life. Yes he wasn’t a real human child but he wasn’t just a cat. He was the closest thing I will ever have to a child. He was the most human-like cat I have ever met.

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” ―French Poet Anatole France

He was my soul’s counterpart in animal form.

After I bury him I go and fall asleep for a few hours and the days that follow are not much better. It’s hard to go to bed & get up in the morning. I know the reason for this is because that is when it happened. I went to bed with no idea of what was to follow. I woke up to hearing him screaming. It’s only natural my body would associate that time of day with sadness. He was ripped from this earth in such a quick & violent manner. We had no warning. No idea that this could even happen. Fine one minute and paralyzed & dying the next. Everything sets me off in tears.

His sister claimed the spot on the couch where he used to sit. She walked into my dressing room smelling all the places he used to be & meowing at me. Asking where is her brother, her friend…

I open the cottage cheese and start crying. He used to run into the kitchen when he heard the container being opened. He loved dairy products. I go to make a brine for the venison & start crying. He loved venison. His tiger bowl is in the cupboard. Empty & clean. No more nibbles.

I eat at the dinner table & try to not cry in front of my husband. Bun Bun (another nickname) used to sit in a chair at the dinner table. He was the most personable cat I ever knew. I’m not just saying that. I have other cats and it’s not the same with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but he was my baby. He used to come into the bathroom and sit on the toilet & watch me get ready in the mornings. He would ask for a snack when I got home from work by staring at his food dish & then at me. He used to talk back to us. We used to say he had an opinion about everything. He would chime in at just the right moments during a conversation. Bing bing or ming ming. I can remember the way he used to sound. Hear him jumping down from high places. He was my precious baby boy, my little dandy bird.

I tried to tell myself that maybe it’s better this way. That now I don’t have to watch him get old or sick or see him start missing his jumps. I know that it isn’t better though. The human mind can accept death easier when it happens to someone that is old. It’s the natural progression of life. You get old & eventually die. I always knew I’d be a wreck when he died but I thought he would get old or sick. That’s what is supposed to happen. He was taken from us too soon.

People always say that you never know how long you have on this earth but no one expects it when it is sudden & out of nowhere.

As awful as it was I’m thankful that I was there with him until the end. I’m thankful it didn’t happen while we were on our honeymoon or away for the weekend (we were just out of town the weekend prior for goodness sakes). I’m thankful that I could see the love in his eyes & I know he could feel my love towards him.

I can feel good knowing that I was a good mommy. He liked his new life up north. We got to spend a lot more time together since I don’t have to commute as far & came home for lunch. He has been such a key member of my family for so long. He picked me out at the humane society. He meowed at me to get my attention. He was more than a pet. He was a friend. He was there during hard parts of my life. There was a period of time when I was moving constantly & he was happy as long as we were together & vice versa. He loved his daddy also. I’m glad he had a daddy that he loved so much.

He was happy as long as he had me & his sister & my guy.

So here we are, one year later. They say time heals all wounds but it’s really just a different way of living. The grief is still there. Just different. I am better but I still get sad. I need to quit re-living that day over & over. In the end he wasn’t in any pain. He wasn’t scared. In fact he was completely relaxed. His last memories were me talking to him, Hi Baby. Who’s a sleepy boy?, and kissing him, & petting him. He fell asleep being pet by his mommy.

I just need to remember him when he was alive. All the cute day to day things that he used to do. Happy blissful memories of my orange kitty, my baby. He made me a better person & I will love him forever.