The Ninth Life of My Cat Chloe:

With all my copy, pasting, and editing, I hope this launches well.  I'm going to put her last picture up after this is posted:

My independent and beautiful cat, Chloe is now gone.  We 'planted' her body where her soul can visit and sit on the soft moss with which I covered the grave, next and nearly over to where we buried our Guiding Eyes for the Blind dog which we got to keep for her nine years, Gayle.  That's a different story and can be found in the Animals I've Known and Loved part of my blog.  There is also a blog about Chloe taking off for about a month... "We Thought She Was a Goner, but the Cat Came Back" ... but this time she WAS a goner.  I can only put this in my blog now, as it was too tender a time before, but while my feelings were raw, I sent this to my stepdaughter,Trese, on 6/6/13 and have edited it for this blog:
Trese to me "How is Chloe doing?  That sucks she is dying. She has been a great cat, better than I thought she would be. And those beautiful eyes! I'm glad she has had a great life out there. She came a long way from the skinny stray she was so many years ago.

Love, Trese

Hi Trese,

Boy...  did this little kitty give me a lot to think about.  I write my thoughts in a notebook to sort them out.  I can actually write better than verbally(orally?) express myself... Guess from practice.
I thought about whether I should have brought Chloe to the vet.  I thought about my worming her, and did that contribute.  I thought about something on the web where a woman said that she didn't read the signs of her cat dying, brought it to the vet... later the vet calls and says the cat is dying, if you want to 'say good-by'  you'd better come quick, and she rued the fact she didn't pick up on that and upset the end time of the cat with such disruption.
    Then I thought of the worst part of being a nurse in that Willow Point Nursing Home: turning lifeless patients whose automatic systems kept their heart beating and their lungs breathing, and if it wasn't for feeding tubes and hydration, they would have been long gone from that Limbo.  They probably weren't feeling pain or ...Anything.  Maybe their spirits had left them and were sitting at the Golden Gates drumming their fingers on the arm of a waiting bench for their mortal beings to just give up.  Then I thought of the Proxy the hospitals always asks if you have, even when just having a simple procedure being done.  I picked up another when I went from my gastro and colon scopings, but haven't filled it out yet.  The other was tattered which I had gotten at General 8-10 years ago when I thought I was having heart attacks (Blogged about that also).  Someone said one should have it in the Last Will and Testament.  I don't know about that, as long as the family knows my wishes.  [But I don't even know my husband, Tom's. He said they could change as our health does, so he doesn't want them written out now.]
 
    What a way to go to sleep that night... thinking these things.  Then, in Ladder of Years by Anne Tyler, where I'd left the bookmark, I picked it up to read, and my eyes fell on a paragraph where the character in the book is reflecting on her father's death and how once they feel they are a burden and the family doesn't care they usually die.  But I don't know about that.  I think it's personal.  It is just that so many reminders hit me at once... and even in my bedtime reading.  So I may have gotten a good sleep, but my thoughts were on Chloe dying (On June 5th she hadn't yet... just drank water from a trickle from the faucet, went out to pee, came in again, and rested in one of two spots... either on the living room floor under the bench with the embroidery on top, or downstairs on the floor just outside the bathroom.)  She didn't mind being picked up, but she didn't relate like before... she kind of stares at me and gives me the feeling that she appreciates the gesture, but doesn't really mind being left alone.  (I think I've become a good mind reader for animals... I should put up a plaque.)

    When I got up that morning I was so on the verge of tears, and anything your dad said was the wrong thing until I just said I was upset over the cat.  He sobered up and said gravely, "I'm upset too." (The cat had gone outside to pee, and he heard her at the front door, and let her in).  I could see that there were tears in his eyes. [Tom who used to hate cats...but not really ... just thought he did, but he loved this one].  I said, "I'm sorry if I made you cry."  He said, "You didn't ...She did." meaning Chloe...coming in ...skinny and bony and still enough energy to jump up from the chair and desk to the counter and come over for water.  She seemed pretty 'with it'. So I opened another Fancy Feast Beef, which she normally would like... and she wouldn't even lick at it... like when you're nauseous and even the fav's you don't like.
    One feels so helpless.  But life goes on, and I haven't even let the chickens out or taken the dog for a walk yet.  I also want to plant Tom's 6 little tomato plants he's kind of ignored.  I could care less.  I don't particularly like tomatoes, and would never can them, ...guess I just feel sorry for these little plants with their pot-bound roots.  That sensitive about life today!

Then on the 8th I wrote Trese:

Hi Trese,

I have to share with someone.  Even your dad is really moved by this experience with
the dying cat.  Today she took off ...didn't come back.  I looked in what I thought were
all her favorite haunts, but now.  After supper I tried the woods from behind the wood
shed all the way down to near the street.  About 12 paces in from the street... (a guesstimate) I found her in the same position she has taken most of the time; on her stomach with her feet tucked under her, and her head held erect.  The sun had come out and was beaming down on her. 
She moved. I bent over and stroked her.  She has this wide-eyed look of trying to figure out who I am. After stroking under her chin, she knew me, I think.  I decided to leave her there. 
I came up to tell your dad as he's been so subdued that I thought he was angry at me for something, but when I had asked, he said he's just feeling blue about the cat.  "She was the best.  She was my cat. I feel bad, but, still I don't want another cat."  I don't know if he was relieved when I came up and told him... or if he felt I was calloused in not taking her home again. 
Or if, like me, we thought it was over.  If we were going to have storms, I think I would have, but where she was seemed a perfect place to die.  And I didn't want her going off again for fear I'd never find her.

I've learned a lot through this.  It's important to find out what happened to something you loved, as, if she disappears from that spot... if she doesn't die soon... I don't think we could take it without out more heartbreak.  Somehow I have to see the body or I'll never know.

I also found out what others may feel no matter how old one gets if the old biddy is loved, people are going to hurt when she wants to give up her mortal coil and fade into memory. One way at nursing homes and such is by not eating.  Chloe still drank.  And this living so long without food tells me she was stronger than we thought, and maybe intervention could have helped.

I feel it's too late now, but ...we always wonder about these things... even for a little cat who ate us out of house and home and thought nothing of interrupting our sleep so many, many nights this last 6 months or so.

I'm going to go down and check her again.  I'll leave Bear in the car.  He didn't bother her before, but I lost track of him, and it's too close to the road.

I'll give a eulogy on FB when I actually know she's dead.  Why does that seem so harsh.
Ye Gods.  There should be better ways to die.  Life doesn't suck... but dying does!!

Love,
Mary Jo

Later that day, I went back to check on her, and she was no longer there.  After it was all over, I think that once discovered, the animal that has gone off to die decides to change her spot.  I thought I'd have to search all over to find her again, but when I turned facing the cabin down by the road, I saw her resting on the steps.  I went to pick her up and bring her back to the house.  I thought at the time, maybe she changed her mind and wasn't ready to die.  I tried everything to kind of get her back into good health, but she wouldn't even drink the water that I'd tried trickling a little vitamin drink into so maybe it would jump-start her recuperation... which was NOT to be.  Later she was under the balcony.  I put this in Facebook on the 8th: Thought Chloe had wandered off to die today. Gone so long, I needed to find out what happened. I found her at the base of a tree near the road in a patch of sunlight... dead? No, she moved a tiny bit. I patted her, rubbed under her chin, and then left her there, as she chose the place. Later she disappeared... make a long story short, she came back thirsty so we let her drink from a trickle from the kitchen sink faucet... and now she's stationed as usual under a bench in the living room. I had to check. I think Wednesday was the 2nd day she wasn't eating, so this is the 5th day ...just water. Tough cookie. I don't know if we feel worse that she's dying or worse that it's taken so long. But, again, she doesn't seem to be in pain. Just not eating. Will keep you posted. "God bless and take her soon."

Then later I wrote this to my girlfriend, Charis on 6/10/13:
An update on the cat, Chloe.  She still lives, but is dying so slowly it's driving us nuts.  I was determined to take her to the vets and have her euthanized if she was still alive today, and thought she had died several times already only to have her still breathing and when she sensed me nearby, opened her eyes and looked at me with her eyes which only seemed to tell me to leave her alone.  I think it's very natural for a cat to go off to die, but I would want it to be quicker than THIS.  She hasn't eaten anything for 7 days now.  Only drinks water.  I let her stay outside where she kind of hid yesterday, but just under the stairs, because if I took her in, she'd drink.  I don't think she can even hold water down anymore.  I feel like some would judge me for not taking her to the vets.  Before this anorexia started, she was getting quite senile.  Would cry for water, but still ate, but would refuse the same food for two helpings, so I had to keep opening another can and going back and forth and finally, once she wouldn't eat anything, I'm putting a little with Bear's food, as I believe it too rich for a dog except in small amounts along with his regular food. 

Charis, this is the most difficult pet's death since Gayle.  With Millie's, she had inoperable tumors and we had them euthanize her when they found out and while she was already under anesthesia.  Domino (who died being hit by a snowplow) was horrible, but instantaneous, so I can't say it's difficult in the same way.  Polly was ready.  Her life was miserable, and it would have been awful for her if we tried in vain to extend her life.  But a cat is different.  I think Chloe has had a wonderful life, and this is probably more difficult for us than her.  Like when we're sick with a stomach bug, we don't want others to be pushing food on us and just want to sleep.  I think that's how Chloe feels.  So anyhow, last night she was outside under the balcony stairs; I left her.  But right before I went to bed I checked and she had gone somewhere else.  This morning at first I couldn't find her, and was so sure she was dead that I looked only to know, and to give her a respectable burial.  The second time I looked, I found her under the cabin and thought her dead.  I wasn't that noisy, but she raised her head.  She's deaf, too.  I don't know how she knew the last few times when I thought she was dead that I was there.  Maybe cats and owners have and ability to read each others minds... especially when they are at death's door. 

I've learned a lot through this experience, though the cat isn't human.  Being a Hospice nurse I've seen families wait for a person's death when the doctor had estimated it wrong and it was a long drawn out affair.  If this puts us through Hell, what did they go through?!  Also, something the vet, Dr. Sullivan said about our being selfish keeping Gayle alive when she had lymphoma, made me rethink things.  I know that Gayle didn't suffer.  The cat may be suffering.  I'm not trying to extend her life.  But, really, would I be doing her a favor by bringing her up to Montrose against her will and having her euthanized?  That was the big question.  I was wondering if I wasn't just being cheap, but today I'd have given anything to have her have already 'crossed over,' shall we say.  Somehow... again, it's the telepathy I feel for the cat.  The sick wanting to be left alone.  I wrote pages about it later in my notebook, and think, though it's hard, that I am doing best for the cat just letting her stay under the cabin and die.  However, she may change her spot now that I've again found her there.  It's just so difficult for the human mind to give up on a mortal being and trust Nature to take it's course.  I wonder if one of those vets who have to put to sleep all the surplus cats for which they can't find homes would feel the same way about their own pussy cat, especially when the expendable were healthy, and theirs too sick to live.  But, then, they could get the instrument of death to do it at home. 

Today I feel washed out like an old dishrag.  I probably look that way too, as Bear and I took our walk up to the lake after lunch, and I went on that rainy walk without a hat.  


Then, on  June 11th her nine lives were over: I put this on Facebook: After a week of not eating, and just drinking and sleeping, it was a sad relief that Chloe, my sweet pussy cat finally passed away. We let her out Sun. knowing she wanted to go off and die alone. But I had to know where, so I could give her a respectable burial. I discovered her yesterday under the cabin, and thought she was dead, but when she sensed me near, she lifted her head. I let her stay there, where she chose to die. She last night I saw that she had moved further under, and thought she was dead. I waited to the a.m. to get her body, but I discovered her this morning near the edge at a convenient spot. (Good thing or I'd have had to go under the cabin which is a real claustrophobic thing for me.) We've been grieving her all week, but in a heart-wrenching way whereas she was still breathing. But I don't think she suffered. I meditated on that and felt that she was so in the now, that she wouldn't want her last thing to be a disruptive trip to the vet and a convenient to us, euthanization.