by Sandra.
It's been a
really rough week. I have never really experienced grief so profound.
Denis (my partner) is still crying but we've hardly said a word to each
other all week. I can't tell Denis (my partner) how angry I am because
I know he was doing the right thing for Butler.
I think I am really lucky to have found this site
and to be able to access your support. Thank you so much.
"BUTLER"S GONE
This is my story and my thoughts 52 hours after our friend, Butler, was
put to sleep.
Someone told me about this newsgroup on Saturday 26 January 1998- that
morning, our friend of 5 years, Butler the cat, was put to sleep. My
partner took him to the vet while I stayed at home waiting (delivery of
some white goods from my folks). We always took our cats to the vet on
Saturdays so we would be together. But this time, it was different. My
folks, in a rare show of reconciliation (due to the impending birth of
my first baby in March) had arranged delivery of some white goods. I
was torn - the vet could not wait til Tuesday (this is a public holiday
long weekend) and my folks would be really offended if I put off
delivery. Denis(my partner) said he would go.....
When Denis, came home, I raced down to the garage...where was Butler????
Denis said "I had to have him put down"...I thought he was joking. He
showed me the receipt. I felt like I had been severed in two, and my
very being was being torn apart and scattered like atoms. A part of me
has died and I feel so empty...and guilty. I hadn't really understood
how sick he really was. I'm not angry with Denis for having Butler 'put
down'(we've talked about this issue in general for years) but I wanted
to be there to say goodbye. To make my peace. To tell Butler how much I
loved him and would miss him...why did Denis not wait til he could
discuss this decision with me. I would have nursed Butler- he wasn't in
pain. The vet told Denis that Butler only had a few weeks but we could
have cared for him at home. I feel like I've let Butler down...I wasn't
there for him at the end. And I miss him so bad, there's an ache that
just won't go away. I see him in the shadows at night, I see his empty
plate, I think I hear his voice, but I don't... not really, because he's
gone.
About Butler:
Butler adopted us 4.5 years ago. We already had two cats- Tai & Cleo
(both aged 8 years old). I didn't realize til later, that he was only
just being fed by some other tenants in the flats we lived in. When
they moved, they left Butler behind. They left him to his fate. Butler
must have known he was to have been abandoned because in the days before
they left, he started allowing me to pat him. And he followed our old
grey male, Tai, around like a shadow. Now Tai hated all cats equally
vehemently, but he seemed to tolerate (barely) Butler. That was the key
to Butler being accepted into our family...
He moved in after they left but took more than a year to accept us. He
had a wound in his side but would not let me tend to it. He freaked
when I tried to put on a flea collar too. But he eventually came to
trust us and this event was memorialised by Butler accepting a flea
collar, like the other two. I think he thought it was jewellery. He was
so well mannered and gentle natured, but he had foibles and fears which
had us stumped. We often wondered what his life had been like before.
He did not know how to lick liquid cheese and other yummies from our
fingers, nor drink from a bowl, dig a hole for doing his business....He
was scared of plastic, paper crinkling, cigarette lighters and thunder.
We called him Butler because he was a black and white tabby who, like a
butler, was dressed in white sox, gloves and waistcoat. And he was
always waiting for food. In the 10 months before, his lustrous black
coat had thinned, reddened and then whitened as the pigmentation was
sucked from his fur. He became pathetically thin and bony. He wouldn't
eat his meals, but came out to the kitchen everytime I went. Or stood
next to the other cats while they ate their food- eyeing their food
greedily while ignoring his own.
In the last few weeks he wanted to sit wherever I was and stand where I
stood. It was becoming dangerous for us both because I couldn't see
where I was going (due to my increasing girth) and bending over was
becoming difficult. Our weather had been awfully hot. As I write this,
I am dripping in 80% humidity and 36 degree heat. Poor Butler, he was
being slowly drained too and would not move from his positions (always
in doorways). I now know that he was not being defiant, he was merely
too sick.
We had taken him to the vet a couple of months ago. They thought it was
kidney disease but they could not get a sample of urine despite the fact
that he stayed at the vet's overnight. In fact, he had refused to eat,
drink or wee during that stay. They had wanted him to be kept in but
the next day, I felt an overwhelming urge to go to the vet and take him
home. When I walked in, I saw him first before he saw me. His face was
so contorted with grief, like the Greek mask of tragedy.....When he saw
me, he ballooned with happiness, and started eating all the food and
drink in front of him. I knew that no matter what, I could never leave
him at the vet's again by himself.
The blood sample was not conclusive either. But the antibiotics seemed
to help pick him up- for a little while anyway. Then he started to
plummet. His urine looked bloodstained and his was losing interest in
his food again and looking so skinny and frail.
We've had a bad time of it financially too. Both unemployed for the
last couple of years- until 3 months ago when Denis got a casual
labouring job. Then at Xmas, they closed and we had no money until
social security came through last Wednesday. That was the money we used
to take Butler to the vet. If I had known...well, lets put it this way-
when we buy our groceries, the first items through are the cat food.
We'd literally give them the food out of our mouths they mean so much to
us.
If only............The 'if only's' and 'why didn't I's" are killing me.
Time's like this I wish I believed in cat heaven, an afterlife, even
reincarnation. But I don't. And even though I'm a social worker, and
know the stages of grief, and all the theory, it doesn't help. I am 37
years old and have never lost a family member. My grandparents lost
their dog of 13 years when I was 16 but I don't remember feeling quite
like this. It's different because Butler was my responsibility, my
baby. And now he's gone, and I feel so bad.
Thanks for listening."