January 20, 2011
I'm beside myself. On the 18th of January, I made the agonizing decision to put my sweet little Zoey to sleep. My little friend of nearly 13 years. I was desperate for guidance and ended up speaking to a dear friend and mentor of mine, Rae who has dealt with this process many times in her life and is incredibly tuned into animal pain and suffering. She intuitively felt I had to say goodbye. I was in utter denial. I resisted this truth with every bone of my body. I sat with the possibility for two days and went into the forest to meditate on it. I agonized and agonized with the weight of this choice.The heavy raindrops that came down in the forest that day matched my flowing tears. I was afraid to go back to the house knowing I had reached a place of "acceptance."
Zoey's last day was the 20th and it was absolutely the saddest, most heart wrenching experience and I've been a wreck since. The ticking of the clock in the household was deafening. I spent almost every minute of that last day laying with her on the floor, making her as comfortable as possible, feeding her her favorite food, napping with her, talking to her, crying and crying and crying...
My girlfriend, Heather was there to hold my hand and provide loving support. I don't know what I would have done without her. Truly. They had one special little bond so it was a sad, tear-flowing experience for her too, and yet a gift to witness. I keep reliving the moment in my heart and it feels devastating. I feel like my heart will forever be broken....there's a gaping hole where she once was...
Having to say one final goodbye. Having to watch the sedative go in and desperately feeling like I want to undo it and bring her back. Watching her heart stop, realizing I would never see her again, but in my dreams. Hearing Dr. Ulbrich say those heart-shattering words "she's gone." She's gone. If there is a living hell, I was in it that day.
My grief is profound. I'm still living under the hope that she will come back to me happy and healthy. The pain is deep. I'm angry that she had to suffer so, so much in her last days and I keep asking why. It's a week later, and I don't know what to do with the quietness...I yearn to hear her meow, see flashes of black and white across the house and endless muffins. "Muffin making" I would call it. She was such a gentle, sweet, pacifist....I learned a great deal from her.
Over the last year, I had witnessed a steady decline in Zoey's health and the weight loss was heartbreaking to watch as she was already a tiny little one. I was working with a team of complimentary medicine veterinarians and none of them could get to the bottom of what was happening. It was paralyzing. Ultrasound, blood work, acupuncture, western and eastern medicines to address what we thought was a kidney infection....she was constantly dehydrated and sub q fluids only helped for a couple of days...it made me feel helpless...she paced during the early hours of the morning and meowed at the top of her lungs in the bathtub...she was drawn to the bathroom...it was as though she was yearning for mercy and it was heartbreaking to witness.
...and she had a turnaround for about 10 days and I thought she was improving. I was ecstatic about this and so much so that I failed to remember the same thing had happened with our beloved Lily. It was like her last rally....her last hoorah of sorts and then when she could no longer fight, she was ready. I felt deceived by the universe. How could this be happening? She showed me the signs that I had asked her to show me and I had to show her the mercy that I so desperately wanted to hang onto because I couldn't bare the thought of saying goodbye.
...the night of her passing, I ransacked my DVD collection and came across old video footage from my Norfolk, VA days...I wanted desperately to see her alive and video footage was the closest I could ger...Heather and I watched with laughter and smiles... she was happy and healthy...the way I want to remember her and the way that Heather was never able to see her.
...I think back to 1998 when she first curled up on my doorstep...she was roaming the alley way in Pacific Beach, CA. I put food out for her so that I knew she was at least being fed until I could figure out a solution...I had her in my apartment for at least a day before I told my roommate, Dan who I anticipated wouldn't be too keen on the idea...too bad I said! We're adopting her. I'm so grateful for my stubbornness.
I'm also grateful for...
1) Dr. Ulbrich and his staff of the Holistic Pet Vet Clinic who worked tirelessly to heal Zoey and never gave up on her...and who always greeted us with kindness and warmth
2) My mom who paid for the final bill just so that I didn't have to experience a business transaction after saying goodbye to Zoey
3) Zoe, Rae, Marsha, Heather, mom and Hava who gave me heartfelt, insightful wisdom
4) The forest for its wisdom
5) The medicines that helped Zoey for a short while
6) Wellness for making a food that she absolutely loved, up until her last day
7) My grandma Sara for making the blanket that carried Zoey to her final place
8) Heather for her unbelievable support and love - for holding my hand, hugging me, providing tender listening, understanding the depth of my pain and sadness, trying to bring a smile to my face and make me laugh, for taking me out for comfort food and making me comfort food
9) all of my friends who lit candles, sent prayers and loving messages about Zoey girl
10) my friend Eric who converted all of that video footage over to DVD's so I could be one step closer to Zoey
11) for all of the healers who provided services like Reiki to Zoey
12) for taking off a term from school to be in this transition. This allowed me to spend every hour with Zoey on her last day
