We have been preparing for this day for almost a year since Tinder was
first diagnosed with an unusual grape-like-cluster of a tumor in October of
'97.  We breathed a sigh of relief when we found out it wasn't malignant.
We won her back for a little while longer.  Then April '98 came and took
her from us again.  Kidney failure made her bloat like a balloon and our
hearts sank when she was only given a week to six to be with us.  Everyday
since then was painful and joyous.  Her willpower was the strongest I have
encountered in a long time.  She was our baby although she was not our
youngest, nor was she the first nor our last.  She was only 4 years old and
had her with us for 3 of those years.
 
Everyday she stayed alert and everyday she took her medication.  She pooped
with control on the newspapers (she couldn't climb into the litter boxes
anymore) and she slept with us everynight.  She had this ritual of climbing
under the sheets and licking and biting our toes and then climbing up one
sheet level and nest build on top of our legs.  When she got to the point
she could no longer climb up onto the waterbed, we lifted her up.  She knew
exactly how to tell us when she wanted up - she would waddle over to the
bed and sigh; I would then extend my hand down to her and she would climb
onto my hand just enough to allow me to pick her up.  The toe
licking/biting, the nest building... bedtime will never be the same.
 
We had her outside a few days ago.  I'm glad it was warm out and that she
got to smell the grass and feel the breeze on her face.  We had noticed
that she has stopped putting up a fuss when getting her medication.  She
just... took it and sighed.  She knew something we didn't.  She no longer
wandered from her bed to poop and pee.  It was just to hard to get
anywhere.  I found her yesterday half in her bed.  She no longer had the
strength to climb all the way in.  Her breathing was sounding moist - fluid
had definitely gotten into her lungs.  It would only be a matter of days -
we were sure.  We cried and we hugged and we cried.  We knew it was time to
let her go and free her to her paradise.
 
We both took the day off of work so that we could spend her last hours
together.  We cleaned her room and we cuddled her often.  I took pictures
of her and her dad.  We cried as we cleaned knowing that her time was near.
I bathed her and dad scratched her in her favourite places.  She didn't
respond to having her sides scratched like she use to.  Only one side now
and only partially.  But she tried to show us that she still loved it.  We
laid with her and watched her sleep and cried until the sheets were wet.
We tried to hide our pain while we planned for her return to the other
side.  Dad fell asleep beside her and she pressed closer to him.  I heard
and felt every minute tick by and they were the longest minutes I have ever
had to endure.
 
Finally the moment came when we had to go.  We bundled her up and held her
close and carried her outside.  We carried her around the yard letting her
smell her last smells of the warm September afternoon.  I drove the car
while dad held her on his lap, constantly stroking and reassuring her that
everything was all right.  When we got to the vet, we couldn't get out of
the car - every last minute wish that she would recover came flooding into
our brains.  But we knew that we would only be causing her more pain by
delaying the inevitable.
 
The room had a beautifully soft pink blanket waiting for her.  We carried
her around the room and passed her back and forth - each of us wanting one
last moment with her, smelling her, hearing her ..... When the vet came in,
he asked us our wishes and we explained that we wanted a necropsy performed
on her and that we also wanted her body back.  He explained where and what
the mercy shot would do and asked us if we wanted to stay.  We had already
talked about that between us and had agreed that we wanted to be together
until the end.  And so it was.... the shot to her liver (he hoped he had
the right area - she was so bloated) was delivered with care.  He said it
would be like she was going into a deep sleep and that it would take about
20 minutes to take total affect.  Dad picked her up and cradled her like a
baby - two minutes later she drifted to her higher plain..... dook, dook,
dook......
 
We stayed with her for a little while longer, holding her and telling her
how much we loved her.  We laid her back on the table and placed her on her
back with her head curled to the left and her paws slightly crossed.  This
is how she liked to sleep and felt it appropriate for her last earthly
position.  With last hugs and kisses on her already paling nose we said our
goodbyes and went back to our hollow home.  I will be picking her body up
tomorrow and then we can finally lay her to rest with the rest of her
buddies.  And although I cry for the silence I hear, I feel her freedom and
smile at the thought of her tiny white toed paws grabbing my ankles asking
me to play.
 
Yes, honey, I will always have time to play with you.
 
Betty and Jim and our Blur O'Fur from the tears in our eyes.
Tinder we love you!  For now and always.
[Posted in FML issue 2429]