After nights of worry and little sleep at times, I began to come to the realization that we couldn't be selfish. We loved him so for so long and had to do what was best for him, not us! In addition to all of this, he had a goiter on his thyroid. At the end, he weighed about 5 lbs.
When he entered the hospital, they were able to take care of the constipation and hydrate him, as well as give him some shots. When they brought him to us, he was in a blanket. Bobby and I held him, rubbed his ears, kissed him and felt his warm, little emaciated body next to ours in turns for the last time. As we talked to him, tearfully, he looked at us with his little head peering out from his little blanket, giving us his usual "winks" of love every time we said something to him in our melancholy tones. He started to drift off, in no apparent pain, with his body still warm, but becoming more relaxed and almost limp. When the lady came to take him from us, his eyes became wider one last time, as if he were saying, "where are you going?" That's the last time we saw him. That image will remain with me forever.
We came back an hour later. He was wrapped up in an oblong package devoid of life; his little hospital blanket. We left immediately for Niagara Falls, where we buried him in his little blanket. I led a prayer thanking God for the wonderful privilege of having this wonderful creature; my companion, family member and friend for almost fifteen years. He made life so much easier to tolerate. He was there for me when I was sick, well, stressed, happy, sad and in whatever mood one can think of.
As I write this, the tears are rolling gently down my cheeks! My mood is somber, I feel so lost and am grieving immensely. I can't even say if I am completely coherent as I compose this blog, but that is just fine. At least I will remember my pain in the future as I reread this and realize the oh-so-very good reason why I felt compelled to write it.
By the way, for the readers out there who want to know why I named him Icky. The reason is quite simple.
When he was a kitten, he was black as ink. He began keeping house with me under that name. I changed it as he always got under my feet and almost tripped me; especially when there was any food preparation. I would say, "Inky, go away!" as he made me angry. The name Inky got changed to Icky because of him being such a little pest. The name just stuck! Now as think back to the reason for the name change and how annoyed I felt back then, and how I feel right now with my heart breaking as I write this, it makes me realize that feeling "icky" can be one of the greatest joys. Don't take anything for granted!
He was born around August, 1994 in ¨Eighty-Four¨, Pennsylvania, named after mile marker 84 on the railroad line. I got him at the local animal shelter. He put out his paw to me through the bars of the cage to play. He found me! He was loved by everyone and very people-oriented. One time a plumber came to fix a problem in the house, Icky climbed up on his lap and made himself at home. That was how my Icky was. Whoever says cats are aloof perhaps has never been close to one. Every night, when I went to bed, icky was there at the end of the bed waiting for me in his own corner of the bedspread. If I slept in, so did he. If I was sick, he didn't leave my side.
I terminated his misery; yes I terminated his life. I had to let go, I couldn't bear him suffering. We all have to let go of our loved ones sometimes. Even this little creature who weighed no more than 10 pounds in his life when he was well made such an impact on my life and those of my friends and family.
Good bye dear pal, you will be missed. I love you Icky!
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