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Jun. 19th, 2004 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pseydtonne"Nissa is a kitty." I say that a lot, with a sing-song flourish. Maggie got me into saying it. Nissa is my first real pet.
We knew when we adopted her that she had a cancer that had metastasized. That was probably why she had been abandoned. It's very obvious she was an indoor cat and well adjusted to the human world. Why someone would just give up on a distantly dying but otherwise normal cat is beyond me.
We discussed whether we should adopt a cat that could die in a couple months. When I met Nissa, she took to me immediately and I knew I was meant to take care of her. She would shepherd me into the world of having pets.
That was in October. She has since come to be a fat cat, slothful and happy to enjoy our small apartment. She would bother me at the computer to remind me the keyboard wasn't the most important task of the day.
At the beginning of the week, she stopped being so active. Her breathing got more labored. She wasn't eating as much. Around Thursday, she stopped eating at all. Her gums had turned white. Maggie got her in the carrier tonight and we we took her to where Maggie works.
We suspect, as does the doctor, that the cancer has spread to her respiratory system or even her alimentary tract. We signed a contract when we became her hospice home that we would not attempt to extend her life.
Maggie will likely be the employee in the room tomorrow when we put her to sleep. We've been crying a lot about this. What had started as a normal weekend has turned into sorrow. However, we know we've done what we can to keep Nissa from pain.
I'm writing to keep from crying. It was working well until I got to the previous paragraph. I would rather be dealing with the new computer parts I bought earlier in the day. I'd rather be fixing a coworker's tower, which I'd planned to finish by Monday. Instead, none of this looks too appealing. I want to hold Maggie and make everything better. She needs to sleep right now.
I didn't get to say goodbye to my grandfather back in 1991. They dragged him to the hospital, and then one doc sent him to Syracuse. Then another doc sent him to Albany. I wanted to visit him but only my mom and company had the chance. The next time I saw him was in the casket when i was a pall bearer. That was the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.
Here we are three weekends after another Memorial Day and I'm trying to say goodbye. I want to know I've done right. I can only assume I have. If I give Nissa a good send-off and give all the other important people in my life the right lives, perhaps I'll earn a good death as well.
We knew when we adopted her that she had a cancer that had metastasized. That was probably why she had been abandoned. It's very obvious she was an indoor cat and well adjusted to the human world. Why someone would just give up on a distantly dying but otherwise normal cat is beyond me.
We discussed whether we should adopt a cat that could die in a couple months. When I met Nissa, she took to me immediately and I knew I was meant to take care of her. She would shepherd me into the world of having pets.
That was in October. She has since come to be a fat cat, slothful and happy to enjoy our small apartment. She would bother me at the computer to remind me the keyboard wasn't the most important task of the day.
At the beginning of the week, she stopped being so active. Her breathing got more labored. She wasn't eating as much. Around Thursday, she stopped eating at all. Her gums had turned white. Maggie got her in the carrier tonight and we we took her to where Maggie works.
We suspect, as does the doctor, that the cancer has spread to her respiratory system or even her alimentary tract. We signed a contract when we became her hospice home that we would not attempt to extend her life.
Maggie will likely be the employee in the room tomorrow when we put her to sleep. We've been crying a lot about this. What had started as a normal weekend has turned into sorrow. However, we know we've done what we can to keep Nissa from pain.
I'm writing to keep from crying. It was working well until I got to the previous paragraph. I would rather be dealing with the new computer parts I bought earlier in the day. I'd rather be fixing a coworker's tower, which I'd planned to finish by Monday. Instead, none of this looks too appealing. I want to hold Maggie and make everything better. She needs to sleep right now.
I didn't get to say goodbye to my grandfather back in 1991. They dragged him to the hospital, and then one doc sent him to Syracuse. Then another doc sent him to Albany. I wanted to visit him but only my mom and company had the chance. The next time I saw him was in the casket when i was a pall bearer. That was the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.
Here we are three weekends after another Memorial Day and I'm trying to say goodbye. I want to know I've done right. I can only assume I have. If I give Nissa a good send-off and give all the other important people in my life the right lives, perhaps I'll earn a good death as well.
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no subject
Date: 2004-06-19 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-19 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-20 05:54 am (UTC)So her bosses won't even give her a break for the euthanasia of her own cat? That's just twisted.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-20 08:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-20 06:21 am (UTC)you've both been wonderful kittyparents to her.
-steve
no subject
Date: 2004-06-20 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-20 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-20 03:41 pm (UTC)she was the perfect little kitty.