May 16th, 2012: Smokey

I intended to start a new blog entry with a happy note because I have a shiny new layout and all, but I’m afraid that isn’t going to be the case.

My nan’s 17 year old cat, Smokey, was put to sleep yesterday. She was terminally ill and it was the kindest thing to possibly do. The vet was extremely nice and treated myself and Smokey with the upmost respect, but it still didn’t/doesn’t make me feel any better.

My nan is an elderly lady and asked me would I take Smokey to the vets to which I obviously agreed with no hesitations. She always said Smokey was relaxed with me which I too noticed, maybe it was because she was my kitten before she was my nan’s cat. My cat, Bonnie, had four kittens in June 1995, and Smokey was one of them. We kept two of the kittens, Sally and Cleo, while Tom went to live with my cousin, and Smokey with my nan and grandad.

I decided I wouldn’t put Smokey in a pet carrier, I didn’t want to put any un-needed stress on her. I took her to the vets in simply my arms, carrying her like a baby. While in the waiting room, I was trying very hard to hold it together and be “normal” for her so she didn’t sense anything different, but at one point she looked up at me from my arms and weakly placed a paw on my shoulder and a huge lump formed in my throat. I cuddled her, stroked her head and spoke to her and she purred away. But I had a strange feeling, it was as if she knew what was going on. She didn’t kick up a fuss, she didn’t struggle, she simply rested her head on my shoulder.

Smokey was extremely skinny, she couldn’t keep any food in her bowels, her kindeys were failing and she was blind in one eye. She was as light as a feather, a bag of bones. She used to be so heavy and fluffy. It was heartbreaking seeing her that way, and my nan decided it wasn’t fair. Smokey couldn’t be cured, and my nan did not want to see her suffer. So she made the choice every pet owner dreads.

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