Nine years, six months, eleven days. Those words scream out at me as I gaze at your 'final expenses' bill. Tears streaming down my face, I ask to see you and spend time with you.
I am led through the corridors of the hospital, where I had brought you only three days before. Renal failure, the doctor said. I had to leave you there while they treated you with IVs and medications in an attempt to reduce the toxins flooding your body. For three long days, I thought of little else, praying that I could bring you home... the two and three phone calls a day, asking how you were doing, then the call saying the doctor wanted to speak to me about you. This can't be good, I am thinking, heart filling with dread yet daring to hope.
My heart sinks as I hear the doctor telling me that the treatment has failed, that there has been too much damage to your kidneys... there is no hope. "Please wait for me", I sob. "I'm coming right away." I jump into my car and drive to the hospital, eyes brimming with tears as I make your 'final arrangements'. Now I am alone with you, and I whisper your name, but so weak you are, you cannot even lift your head to look at me. You are no longer warm to the touch, and too weak to move. I'm not even sure you know I'm there, but I open the kennel and tenderly cradle you in my arms for what I know will be the last time. I kiss your face like so many times before, whispering in your ear "Webster, don't worry my love. Mommy is here to take you home." I believe you heard me, I MUST believe it, but in any case you sighed and laid your head on my chest. The vet tech comes into the room quietly. "When you're ready, just let us know", she says. "I'm ready" I sob. Not really... I will never be ready. But your suffering is so plain to see, and it tears me apart. I'm ready to take you home, now...I owe you that. As I cuddle you in my arms, the solution is injected into your IV and gently you slip away. I spend a few more minutes with you, then slip out the back door so they can prepare you for cremation. You are gone from my life, but never from my memory. I can't stop the tears... I still can't.
Tomorrow I will bring you home, as I promised. How could nine years, six months, 11 days slip by like the blink of an eye? I swear it was only yesterday I brought you home... a tiny Munchkin so appealing I swore NOTHING had the right to be that cute. All your days, a sweet, happy and loving cat, right up until the end. I still have your daughter, a Munchkin who looks so much like you it hurts. You are missed terribly and always will be... I pray the hurt fades, and the memories begin. Love you, Webster. I'll see you again at the Rainbow Bridge.