Not all chapters in a story are happy. There is tragedy and loss, even in the best of fairy tales. My husband and I are dealing with just such a chapter right now, one of the toughest times we have been through together.
Our cherished Fat Kitty is no longer with us. Earlier this week, we had to make the nearly impossible decision to have him put to sleep. Not only did we lose a pet, but a companion. Fat Kitty and my husband had been two peas in a pod for over ten years, and kitty has been my company during Husband's late work nights for five years. My husband and I have spent the majority of this week stuck together, wandering through a haze of, "what can life possibly be like without him?"
As I have said before, I am not even attempting to compare the issues of raising a child to those of having a pet. They are two entirely different things. There are different types of love you feel for a person and a pet. However, both types of love can be equally strong in their own ways. And now we have a fat cat sized hole in our hearts.
You might be wondering why I chose to write about the loss of our cat on a blog dedicated to our baby boy. There are a few reasons. He has been a reoccurring guest on this blog, after all. He has taught us patience and compromise and how NOT to enable, as well as when to give in. All of these lessons will make us better parents. The biggest reason, though, is because he helped us learn what is probably the hardest lesson: you have to do right for those you love, even when it causes you unbearable pain. There is no room for selfishness.
Our Fat Kitty became so sick so quickly that I am still trying to wrap my head around it. The vet said we could prolong his life by maybe a few weeks and started talking about daily fluid IVs and a 24 hour catheter for food. Husband and I couldn't imagine our vibrant, headstrong cat being happy with that at all, especially because it would require long days at the vet and many car trips--his two least favorite things in the world. Husband and I would have done absolutely anything in the world to keep our kitty with us--except cause him pain. So we did what was best for him, even though it was the worst possible thing for us.
Obviously, I hope a worry this serious never crosses our path when it comes to our child. But there will be hard decisions--times when we make our little guy unhappy, and he won't understand our decisions. We will do our best to explain our reasoning to him. There will be times when our decisions and choices are far harder to make and implement for us than for our son to swallow.
So thank you, Fat Kitty, for teaching us this lesson and all the other ones over the years. Thank you for your companionship, for greeting us at the door every time we came home, for sleeping on my pillow until Husband came home from work. Thank you for forgiving me when I stepped on your tail and for the time I accidentally left you out on the porch all night (although in my defense, we had just met and I barely knew you). Thank you for making me laugh when you stalked my toes, for snoozing on the bathmat while I took a bath, and for laying on my hair while I tried to do yoga on the living room floor. You kept life interesting. Thank you for making Husband and I better people, and (soon) better parents. You will be missed--especially your presence at our front door when we bring home our little man home for the first time. But even though Fat Kitty won't physically be there, I'm pretty sure he'll always be around--as our son's very own personal Guardian Fat Kitty, halo and all.
Our cherished Fat Kitty is no longer with us. Earlier this week, we had to make the nearly impossible decision to have him put to sleep. Not only did we lose a pet, but a companion. Fat Kitty and my husband had been two peas in a pod for over ten years, and kitty has been my company during Husband's late work nights for five years. My husband and I have spent the majority of this week stuck together, wandering through a haze of, "what can life possibly be like without him?"
As I have said before, I am not even attempting to compare the issues of raising a child to those of having a pet. They are two entirely different things. There are different types of love you feel for a person and a pet. However, both types of love can be equally strong in their own ways. And now we have a fat cat sized hole in our hearts.
You might be wondering why I chose to write about the loss of our cat on a blog dedicated to our baby boy. There are a few reasons. He has been a reoccurring guest on this blog, after all. He has taught us patience and compromise and how NOT to enable, as well as when to give in. All of these lessons will make us better parents. The biggest reason, though, is because he helped us learn what is probably the hardest lesson: you have to do right for those you love, even when it causes you unbearable pain. There is no room for selfishness.
Our Fat Kitty became so sick so quickly that I am still trying to wrap my head around it. The vet said we could prolong his life by maybe a few weeks and started talking about daily fluid IVs and a 24 hour catheter for food. Husband and I couldn't imagine our vibrant, headstrong cat being happy with that at all, especially because it would require long days at the vet and many car trips--his two least favorite things in the world. Husband and I would have done absolutely anything in the world to keep our kitty with us--except cause him pain. So we did what was best for him, even though it was the worst possible thing for us.
Obviously, I hope a worry this serious never crosses our path when it comes to our child. But there will be hard decisions--times when we make our little guy unhappy, and he won't understand our decisions. We will do our best to explain our reasoning to him. There will be times when our decisions and choices are far harder to make and implement for us than for our son to swallow.
So thank you, Fat Kitty, for teaching us this lesson and all the other ones over the years. Thank you for your companionship, for greeting us at the door every time we came home, for sleeping on my pillow until Husband came home from work. Thank you for forgiving me when I stepped on your tail and for the time I accidentally left you out on the porch all night (although in my defense, we had just met and I barely knew you). Thank you for making me laugh when you stalked my toes, for snoozing on the bathmat while I took a bath, and for laying on my hair while I tried to do yoga on the living room floor. You kept life interesting. Thank you for making Husband and I better people, and (soon) better parents. You will be missed--especially your presence at our front door when we bring home our little man home for the first time. But even though Fat Kitty won't physically be there, I'm pretty sure he'll always be around--as our son's very own personal Guardian Fat Kitty, halo and all.
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