I would like to introduce you to someone very dear to me. Her name is Cleo and she is my cat that I had to put down last week. I know what you’re probably thinking. ‘This site hasn’t been updated for how long and the first post that we get is about death again?!’ Yes, it is. But stay with me because it may not be what you think it is.

Cleo, Queen of Denial

Cleo has been my girl for the past 10 years. She was given to me, unexpectedly, as a Valentine’s Day gift and for the first few days she terrorized me and my easy going dog. She was a rescue from the pound and she was scared and anxious. My dog and I were just scared. Cleo did things like hiss and yell at us and we treated her with the utmost respect and caution. She, on the other hand, treated us with disdain. She ate from my dog’s bowl while he watched her with sad, puppy dog eyes. She hid under the bed and attacked my ankles right when I was about to go to sleep. Finally, she did the ultimate act of defiance: Cleo repeatedly peed in my bed. I spent many a night about to crawl into bed only to immediately stop at the feel of cold moisture on me; cursing my bad luck and whipping out my Bissell Little Green Machine to clean up the mess.

Eventually, Cleo got used to us. She would snuggle with my Springer (even though he would look at me with an expression of ‘Uh…what do I do?!’) and, when she rid herself of the bed pissing habit, she would hop on the bed with me at night and sleep with me. She grew to be a big girl, most likely as a result of enjoying the endless supply of food and freedom from the pound. When she sat up she looked like a short, furry sumo wrestler. She was a sweet, relaxed, hearty girl who was unfazed by anything.

Cleo & Tobey after a sick Tobes came home from an extended stay at the emergency vet.

As time passed my family grew and another dog and cat were added to the mix. Cleo would be hesitant at first but would slowly warm up. Over the next few years she would turn into something I never expected: the loving cat who kept the other pets in line. Many of you may remember or have seen my writings about my dog Tobey passing away. Whereas when we first met her she was a furious, hissing ball of fur she had matured into a nurturing, loving cat over six years. When I brought Tobey home from the emergency vet she would routinely watch over him, snuggle him, meow at him and sleep near him. When he passed she spent the following two days looking for him.

Fast forward a few more years to last week. Cleo had been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago and had the growth removed. Unfortunately, it returned with a vengeance. The cancer that she had spread to her lungs, caused a growth on her leg and was the underlying reason why she began to lose her balance and motor skills. I brought her to her vet and also to an oncologist and they both warned me that there was no way that I could save her; I could only make her last time here on Earth comfortable. I got her on medication and hoped that she wasn’t in too much pain. As her motor skills rapidly deteriorated she began to have problems using her litter box, walking in a straight line and she would violently fall down the stairs.

About two weeks passed after our visit to the oncologist and I noticed that she had a wound under her eye which caused her to keep her left eye closed. By this point she was confined to the upstairs and her food was placed so that she could easily reach it. When I brought her to the vet we discovered the reason for the wound was that she was scratching it. A tumor had been growing, most likely between her brain and her eye, and had been causing her pain.

While I was hoping that it wasn’t something too serious and hoping beyond all hope that I would at least have a few more days with her I came to the painful conclusion that I would have to let go. Unlike my dog, Tobey, who passed away the day after Christmas when I wasn’t at home, I was going to be there with her until the end. It seemed apropos that a thread called ‘…always stay…’ appeared on reddit so I shared the experience with them:

I had to have my cat put down this evening. She had multiple forms of cancer and she was going downhill quickly. When given the choice to stay or go, I chose to stay. They sedated her and wrapped her in a towel and then brought her in the room to me. I cradled her and talked to her as the sedative started to take effect. I was looking into her eyes, reassuring her that it would be ok and that she wouldn’t be in pain any longer.

When the time came to inject the drugs to euthanize her I held her close to my chest knowing that she probably couldn’t hear me. I held her, wrapped in a towel, telling her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me as she took her last breath.

If at all possible I will never, ever let my pets pass without me there to comfort them.

The picture which led to the discussion on reddit:

I regret that I wasn’t there for my big dog, Tobey. I am happy that I got to hold my little girl and let her go with her dignity. I take comfort knowing that she’s no longer in pain, that she wasn’t alone when she passed away, and that I was the last person she saw – holding her, loving her, speaking to her softly. When the question came down to her quality of life versus my desire to keep her with me as long as possible it took a lot of strength from me to admit that I was being selfish and that sometimes the best thing, the most humane thing to do is help your companion onto their next journey.

I love my girl and I miss her dearly; I’m always expecting her around the house or to see her out of the corner of my eye. I do know that I made the right decision and prevented her from the misery of suffering the effects of multiple cancers.

In the future, because I know that I will most likely live longer than all of my pets, I will always stay with them to the very end.