A farewell to Alex...

I haven't posted this as soon as I had hoped to, mostly due to the fact that I didn't know quite how to put into words what I wanted and needed to say. I still don't but I need to do this so I can move forward, both here in Suzannahstan and in general. So here goes!

On June 2nd at 6am, Alexandria Egypt, Port City on the Nile (m.k.a. Alex) suffered a blood clot that moved into her spine and rendered her back legs and tail completely non-functioning. We (Dave and I.... and I can't say enough about Dave through this situation) took her to the U of M Vet Hospital because no where else was open and they diagnosed her. I think both Dave and I knew on the ride there that things were definitely not good but didn't say anything. I knew that she would never come home again, and I sat with her in the back seat by her carrier talking to her on the ride. When we arrived, there was the obvious paperwork and one of the nurses took her back to be looked at by one of the vets. I was fine until about 2 minutes after Dave finished the paperwork.

Alex had been mine since June 1992 when at 8 weeks old I found her in an ad posted in the newsletter for the company I had worked at, and we had been through almost everything, good and bad, together till the day she died. She was definitely a cat that believed that I was around to be there just for her and demanded my attention, loudly, on most occasions when she felt it was needed. Alex announced bedtimes, kept me company during late nights when i couldn't sleep and read, reminded both Dave and I that meals should always be on time and mostly was content to treat Emma (before she died in Oct. 09) and Merlin like the cats they were, not like the cat she was. As I write this it doesn't sound like Alex was as magnificent as she really was, but I can't seem to find the right words to describe her better. She was a fantastic cat.... regal, aloof when she wanted to be, talkative (to the point of absolute domination of the house) and loving in her own way, which suited me perfectly. To face losing her was something that I had thought about over the course of her life, and like most pet owners I think, dreaded what it would be like to not have her in my life.

As we sat in the waiting room and other people came in and left with their pets, I couldn't keep myself from crying. Dave came and hugged me and tried to keep me in a positive place, because we really didn't know what was going on. The doctor came out and took us to a room and confirmed that she had suffered a blood clot. She told us that there were things that they could try to do, but it would be a long road and Alex would be in pain and wouldn't necessarily gain the use of her legs, most cats don't. She told us the other option was to put Alex to sleep. She left us alone to discuss it, but the minute she said that any treatment would leave Alex in pain (something they had already given her a painkiller for), I knew what had to be done and I have no doubt that Dave did too. We were both very rational at that point and I don't remember crying when we made the decision. In fact we laughed a bit about something that I can't even recall, but i'm sure it had something to do with Alex, who we could hear in a room nearby, talking in her "I'm not sure what YOU think you're doing" voice.

They brought her to us in what they have set up as a quiet room that looks out on the grounds of the St. Paul campus, and I held her as both Dave and I talked to her for awhile. She had never been a lap kitty and definitely was never big on being held, and she tried to get out of my arms, even though she couldn't use her legs, which we knew was frustrating and scary for her. We laughed with each other remembering different "Alex moments" and Dave scratched her head and ears. We probably spent around 20 minutes just talking to her and trying to make things not so scary. She calmed down a bit (in Alex standards that was amazing in and of itself!) and just let us hold and pet her. When the doctor finally came in and administered the injections that would stop her heart, I knew the moment it happened. It was raining outside and as I felt her heart beat the last time, it seemed like the rain picked up and somehow even God felt her leave us. We held her and cried for a little bit, but knew that she wasn't with us anymore and soon after gave her body to the doctor for cremation. We have used cremation with both cats that Dave and I had lost before and their ashes are in wooden urns that have room for pictures. I know that it's been the easiest way for us to deal with their losses and feel like they aren't so far away. Although, I still haven't found the best picture for Alex's urn.... I'm looking. But she is back home, in a sense.

So, why share all this? I don't know.... well, it is my blog... and I guess I knew that this would somehow be part of my goodbye to her. Even though she will live in my heart forever. Luckily I had taken some video of her one night when I was between books and it's here if you'd like to see the queen "A" in her "natural environment".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHE2QSRvOm4

Being a different kind of parent

Just a warning, this could be considered sappy.... but it's my blog, so sappy is alright.

So, since I was about 5 years old there have been animals of one kind or another in my home and in my life. First was Kitty (real original I know, but it was my Mom's choice) who had been the runt of the litter and was thus rescued. I cant give you any more than the names of the ones that followed, because they came to us via strange paths, but Buck, Smokey, Cupcake (strangest path, from Norwalk, California to Omaha via the seat next to me on American Airlines, lured into my 9 year old arms with tuna from under a car in Norwalk) and Munchkin (aka the cat i called Monkey, with permanent PMS). But these were my Mom's pets more than mine. She paid their vet bills, fed them most of the time, scooped the poop and changed the litter. It wasn't until 199 that I started my own journey as a pet parent.

I was working at Boys' Town right out of university and thought I would work there until I retired, since I had been a resident and graduate of BT and loved my time there when I was in high school. Working there was a COMPLETELY different set of experiences, rules and obstacles which ended in me losing my job due to what my evil harpy of a boss called "a lack of professionalism and poor judgement". (Just to set the record straight, she had been working at BT when I was a resident and had been an evil harpy then too.) However, about 2 months after I started working, there was a notice in the company newsletter about an employee who had a 6 week old kitten that needed a home. This kitten became my Alex (full name: Alexandria Egypt, Port city on the Nile.. what? She looked Egyptian and Cleopatra was so overdone!!). Alex and I have had many adventures including 8 moves, the addition of Emma (full name: Somalia of Omaha, even though she never lived in Omaha for even a day) in 1995 and the inevitable addition of Dave and Merlin (in 1996), and finally the welcoming of Solo (who was going to be put down because of an idiot who worked at my final job at Hammer Residences) in 2001. So they became our kids for lack of a better term, because what I have felt for these cats, especially those who I have lost, is an unconditional love that most non-pet owners find strange, and only real pet lovers understand.

When Solo and Em died I felt like a huge part of me died and I think that Dave felt the a lot of the same feelings. Solo's journey to the other side was longer than Em's, which was so fast that it felt almost blurred. And over the past few weeks we ALMOST lost Alex. It was far and away some of the worst days that I have ever endured. Talk of cancer, when and if to stop treatment, heart problems, kidney failure... (for what turned out to be some major constipation as well as severe dehydration for reasons still unknown) and numerous visits to our fantastic vet, culminating in a last visit with a fairly clean bill of health for an 18 year old total diva kitty. As she got better slowly through the days, I had times of being giddy with joy at the simplest things, like Alex going up in her tree, jumping on my bed, eating an entire bowl of food and last but certainly not least yelling at me and everybody she sees (it is a charming trait, I swear!) I also had the horrible sleepless nights just watching to make sure she was breathing, administering sub-cutaneous fluids (a 2 person job if there ever was one) and just making sure she was warm and comfortable. It felt like weeks and we're still all enjoying the thrill of sub-cue fluids, medications and checking the litter box for "deposits"...

So I guess the point of this post is that even those of us who don't have human kids are still parents to furry kids. Because I love these animals that God has led into my life and would sacrifice anything to help them any way I knew how. The past days and weeks were about making decisions with respect to what to sacrifice and what would be enough. This is something that I wish no parent ever has to go through, ever. But I know all too many do, with human children and non-human children alike. My hope is that God will help us to be the best parents that we can be to the children that we have and help us with the support we need in times of crisis and indecision. Love and blessings upon all parents and children, everywhere, how, and when.