Horsey Therapist

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Millie, the cat

I have been watching Millie decline rapidly over the past few days, and right now I am full of sorrow even though I say I'm ready for her to go. I watch myself continue to want to do something to make her comfortable, which of course assumes I know that she is not. Yesterday I was following the vet's recommendations to sub-Q hydrate her, plus I used a small syringe to get water into her mouth numerous times. I have only once forced water into her mouth today. She hasn't liked any of it. I could not continue but it's hard not to insist on water.

I know she's dying.

I had a conversation today with an animal communicator. Mostly I wanted to know if Millie is in pain. I also asked if there is anything she wanted me to know, or anything I could do for her to help her be comfortable. I was assured she is not in pain. That was most important for me to hear.

He mentioned something like cookies and cream, something black and white but he wasn't sure what. I didn't know what it could be, but just now, looking at where she lay down after I brought her upstairs thinking she might want to lay on the bed, I think I know what the black and white is. She is on a sheepskin throw rug, and our sheepskins are black and white. Or maybe it's the black and white kitty who sits outside on our porch most days?

I wish you well, Millie, and a smooth transition. And I wish you good hunting and companionship on the other side. You've been an awesome cat in my life, and I especially appreciate how well you've taken care of first Jake, and then Schumann. I can learn from you about offering nourishment to those in need, about protecting loved ones, and about setting clear boundaries when the play gets too rough. I can learn from you about dignity and independence, about the joy of eating, and about how simple it is to express preferences even if they are not honored.

Thank you, dear Millie. I will miss your pretty green eyes and your remarkable purr.

Ok, I will not miss your fidgeting with the bureau drawer at 6 am every morning even though it helped get me out of bed.

I love you, Millie.


At 18 July, 2009 06:00, Blogger Pam said...

Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that Millie is not doing well. I'll be thinking of you, its so hard to lose a loved pet.

At 20 July, 2009 18:34, Anonymous ell said...

Oh Boy do I know how much this sucks right now! Therapy is in the discovery that there is always a new creature needing the love and care that always needs a creature to be spent on!


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