Nineteen years ago, my best girlfriend Linda and I were watching Pet Sematary one night, and the exploits of Churchill, a British Grey cat who had come back from the dead.
The very next morning - I think it was in May - a tiny grey kitten wandered into the backyard. He was so small, he fit in the palm of my hand. He had that Brit Grey look to him, but also a silvery shimmer to his coat that made me think more of Russian Blue. It was a spooky coincidence!
No one put up signs in the neighbourhood about the tiny lost kitten, so
rather than tempt fate, I kept him.
Linda said that we should call him Churchill or Churchy for short, but I was into a Japanese phase at the time (still am in many ways), and named him Genji after Lady Murasaki's princely hero in
A Tale of the Genji. Of course, his name was unpronounceable for most of my relatives.
The name was a bit challenging for the tiny kitten, but he soon grew into it. His coat remained that beautiful Russian Blue silvery grey, so his nickname was Silver Boy.
One thing he loved to do above anything else was climb up on the bathroom sink in the morning and ask for the tap to be run at a drip. He preferred that to drinking water out of a bowl. I guess it was a serious source of entertainment!
He also enjoyed sitting on the edge of the tub while I was having a bath. He'd dip his tail in the water, but he could never quite figure out to do after it was soaked. Over the years, we had many conversations at tub-edge about that, and it became The Story of the Tub Kitten Who Didn't Know What To Do.
Fast forward to now, and we have moved to a new house. Genji has sneaked out the back door twice in search of Ladies And Adventure, with one incident when he was the ripe old age of 15 involving 4 days off work and several hundred flyers. Some people called to say that they'd spotted a cat a block or two away with an unusual silvery grey coat. He was as nonchalant as possible when he finally returned, but clearly glad to be home.
His CRF never really got him down. He was diagnosed a number of years ago but never got to the point of needing sub-Q's. But his once mighty samurai body melted away over the past two years to skin and bones. Still, he had a good appetite, an eye for the back door, and was spry.
This past week, like many old cats, he went downhill very very quickly. A couple of days ago, I looked at him and thought, "he will not make it to the weekend". He could still jump on the bed, but he was much more wobbly. He wasn't eating as well, and he was crying more. The last bit was hard to gauge, as he was a vocal boy for many years, preferring to sing at 3 in the morning, or to let me know that it was 6:30 and time to run the tap in the bathroom for him.
Last night very late, I noticed a massive swelling on his jaw that hadn't been there before, as far as I knew. At the rate it had grown, I figured it was an abscess. But at his age and in his condition, I didn't feel that full dentistry was an option, and with no muscle mass and the tentative way he was now getting around, it was only a matter of time.
I made him as comfortable as I possibly could, and said goodbye to him. He loved lying on the adjacent pillow, wrapping his right paw around my finger and purring on end, so we did that. He was always a velcro-kitty lover boy. He wasn't able to purr last night, but his breathing seemed easier.
One of my favourite bloggers, who I visit every day, volunteers at Toronto Animal Services. He writes of the anguish and love dilemma that we all face when euthanasia is an option.
http://onebarkatatime.blogspot.com/2009/04/in-remembrance-of-barclay.htmlI can't tell you how my mind churned last night, going through all the stages of grief, and circling around to revisit each of them. It's wonderful that we have the option to help end the suffering, and awful to have the responsibility. You all know that.
I had an appointment for this morning, and I must have slept for 2 hours at most. I suppose I was in a state of delirium, not being 17 years old and able to handle all-nighters!
The two dogs were a great help. Kyoto, who is 11, was the first to figure out that something was really wrong with Genji this time. She groomed him on the bed, and slept right up against him during the night. Karinoe, the 5 year old rescue puppy, wasn't that sure; he was extraordinarily submissive, and he knew something was different. Having both of them there with us all night made it a whole lot easier.
I'm an avid fan of Temple Grandin, who writes about animal perceptions and emotions. We humans have the capacity to think - we think - but we miss the crucial details sometimes. Kyoto and Karinoe alerted me, towards dawn, that Genji had gone downstairs. I offered him water and milk (which he loves), but he refused both. The dogs were quite concerned, and shadowed him, but not in an obtrusive way.
My vet is wonderful about end-of-life decisions. Although there were dentistry options, we agreed that it was only postponing what was inevitable in the very near future. She has a special room on site for euthanasia, which is very comfortable and can accommodate visitors, although this time I did not want my closest friends to see the deterioration; I wanted them to remember him as the samurai cat of the bathroom sink.
He will have a private cremation, with ashes returned along with a paw print impression.
I have loved all of the cats that have shared their lives with me. There are two or three that are very very special. Genji is one of them.
During the night, I thought many times of Harry the Golden Retriever, on another thread, and today I bought a little pot of forget-me-knots. Flowers have been a big part of the past 24 hours. It seems as though we had crocuses coming up a couple of weeks ago, and now there are tulips and other plants in bloom everywhere.
I stepped out at 2 in the morning last night to let the dogs have a pee, and all of a sudden, the weeping cherry in the back yard had come into bloom. Today, I see that the Japanese kerria, quince, flowering almond, and the mystery tree that started out as a small sprout that had somehow been in the pot with the flowering almond, were all blooming and fragrant. It seems so ironic that, this May 1, Genji has departed, and everything else is coming to life. I wonder how different it is if a loved one leaves us in the autumn. It definitely seems unfair when they do in the spring!
But it's not about us.
I'll be blogging and building a webpage soon, but in the meantime, I'm attaching a couple of pix of Himself doing his absolutely favourite thing.
