Poppy, brick found in our flower bed, April 2009,
photo © 2009 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
From a comment this morning, QM writes:
I am heading over to two of our friends’ house to be there when they put their cat Kaia down. She’s been under the weather for a few months. And after the last trip to the vet last week, they have made the hard decision that it’s time. Kaia, bless her heart, is just tired. They think she may have cancer and she can’t be operated on because she’s too frail and has a weak heart.
We stopped by to visit them last night and spend a little time with Kaia. They got her as a kitten (her sister was Emigre, there were two of them) in about 1992 so I think that makes her about 17 years old. Send prayers this morning as it’s the last day that Kaia will roam the Earth in bodily form. Something about the unconditional love that pets give to humans always makes it so sad to let them go.
I only knew Kaia from QM’s writing; QM and Liz often cared for the cat when their friends were out of town. And QM and Liz not too long ago had to contemplate similar decisions when their cat Chaco became seriously ill. Fortunately, Chaco had a near-miraculous recovery.
Jim and I had to put our dog Roger down after he got cancer and the tumors affected his breathing. A good friend who happens to be a vet came and euthanized Roger out in the grass one mild fall morning while Jim and I held him. Later, Jim said he would never go through that heartache again, and when Rudy died not long after, we were able to let him die naturally with all four of us surrounding him. (I incorporated that experience into a short story, which I included in a blog post in 2007, when QM’s Mr. Stripeypants got seriously ill. Fortunately, Pants also recovered.)
It’s rare, I think, that natural causes finally take a pet’s life. Often the sufferring becomes unbearable, and the humane thing to do is to help move them from the physical world onto the other side.
QM and Liz are by their nature compassionate and emphathetic people. That’s why, I’m certain, they were asked to be with their friends while they put Kaia to sleep.
But not everyone knows how to deal with the death of a friend’s pet. I know that even having gone through my own pets’ deaths, I can find myself at a loss for the right words or deeds that might help ease the pain.
Larry Kaufman, a pet loss counselor, offers this advice to people who want to support those who are mourning the loss of a pet:
- Take the distressing experience of the mourner seriously. Listen and speak with empathy, understanding, support, sensitivity, and compassion.
- Ask the mourner about the circumstances of the pet’s death.
- Encourage the mourner to talk about the pet, to tell stories of the pet’s life in the family.
- Don’t ask if the mourner is planning to get another pet or suggest where such a pet might be bought.
- Avoid the use of clichés such as telling the mourner that time heals all wounds, or reassuring them that they will soon “get over it.”
- Send a condolence card specifically made for pet loss.
- Remember dates that are important to the bereaved pet owner, like the date of the pet’s death. Consider sending a follow-up note, e-mail, or card, or making a telephone in remembrance of the day.
- Send a donation in honor of the deceased pet to an animal-related organization (such as a humane society, animal shelter, or one devoted to improving the health of animals through medical research).
- After a few weeks or months, follow up by asking how the bereaved individual is doing. (Use the pet’s name and correct gender.)
- Don’t assume that you know how the mourner might be feeling and reacting. The mourning process can be multi-layered and complex. Everyone is unique, with her/his own needs and preferences. Good judgment is essential in dealing with people in such a vulnerable state.
Just as my prayers go to Kaia, my thoughts go out to you, QM and Liz. You are special people and the dearest of friends.
yb, what a wonderful post. The death of a pet can be especially painful when that pet loved you unconditionally. The hardest I ever cried was when I had to bury the Old Black Cat who had come to the backdoor of our house when I was 2 or 3 years old and stayed until I had been away at college for a couple of years. He had babysat me, comforted me, been the object of my anger, and despite all of my bad behaviors had loved me unconditionally. The is the greatest gift a pet offers to us in my experience.
LikeLike
YB: thank you for your post. Immediately I recalled the need to put my cat Angel to sleep in 1996, after 7 years of living with feline leukemia (she got it from her mom and had it at birth) developed into tumors in her lungs. At the time, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do (along with my then-husband). Somewhere in the experience, I realized though, that when she had trouble drawing breath, the gift of removing her suffering and panic was the ultimate gift of love.
Nevertheless, there have been other pet passings of the beloved furry and feathered ones of friends and family that I have mourned deeply — even those passings of pets I never knew or knew barely. They grab my heart most fiercely, perhaps because in life, those pets are the target of unfettered love of their humans, sometimes connecting and sharing in a way that humans can’t even share affection. There is a very special bond between animals and humans, a very special understanding communicated.
Prayers and tender thoughts for Kaia and her humans and for all those who have loved and lost a treasured animal friend.
LikeLike
ybonesy, this is about the sweetest post I’ve ever seen. Thank you so much for putting it up today on the spur of the moment.
I just got back from my friends’ home not that long ago. And I tell you, I am exhausted. Liz took time off of work to be there as well. We both cried our eyes out. Not only had I known Kaia since she was a kitten, but it came awfully close to what we almost had to go through with Chaco a few months ago. Way too close.
I think I mentioned in the post about Chaco that one of the vet techs really wanted the vet to tell us to put him down that day at the vet’s office. But the vet saw a ray of hope and wanted to try one more thing — it worked. And so far, Chaco is still with us. But it so could have gone the other way.
I was really glad we could be there for our friends. They were also there for us when Chaco was sick. And it really helps to have friends who are also close to their pets and can understand how difficult a time it can be.
Kaia went peacefully, I think it might have been sometime around Noon. There was a trained individual who came to their home and gave Kaia the shots. I really liked her. She also came prepared with a soft clay piece so she could make a paw print of Kaia right before she passed away.
Boy, I tell you though, it was gutwrenching. I was really glad that Liz was there, too. Because there were a couple of times when I just had to leave the room sobbing. Then other times where I felt calm and helped our friends with some of the practical things that needed to be done.
They are taking Kaia over to be cremated this afternoon. Then they will create some kind of site in their back yard, a memorial for her and Emigre, Kaia’s sister. We found out today there was a third sister but our friend doesn’t know what owner ended up with her.
I’m glad you added the list from Larry Kaufman at the end of your post. Because those things are so true. Last night, we were in a bookstore and Liz got a similar book by a local author that talks about all the aspects of having to put a pet down. We drove over to our friends’ last night and gave them the book. There were a couple of sections that really seemed respectful of feelings and mindful of the process. One thing that came up today were the reactions of the other two cats in the home. They will go through a grieving process as well.
It really can bring up so many emotions. Because of the nature of the unconditional love that pets give us, we are sometimes closer, or at least as close, to them as we are our human companions. There just aren’t that many humans who love unconditionally.
ybonesy, what is the story of Poppy, the dog on the brick?
LikeLike
I realized I had a couple of other things I wanted to mention. At the end of the process today, the conversation turned to the controversial aspects of euthanasia in relationship to humans. You can’t go through something like this with a pet and not think about what you would want to have happen if you were in a similar position as a human — maybe a grave illness or if you were suffering.
One of our friends recounted a story of an elderly person in her family who was sick and in the hospital and how doctors have to make decisions every day about whether to give pain medication (which slows the respiratory down and may stop their breathing) or to not do that and allow patients to breathe more freely, even though they are in great pain. ALL kinds of things come up when you go through an intense experience like this. Not that you have any answers; it’s just that it really makes you think about all the things associated with death.
On the lighter side, we did laugh at the end when one of our friends taught us her song for Kaia that she made up and the four of us sang it. I truly was glad we could be there. They reminded me that I had been there for the deaths of at least 3 other pets that they had owned over time. These are long-time friends. And if you know friends for years, chances are you will be faced with some of these kinds of decisions.
We snipped a little of Kaia’s fur at the end for a bundle. I had done that with my Siamese Sasha, too, another cat that I had to put down some time ago. I think the thing about pets is that when they die, you recall everything that’s happened to you in the time they have lived with you. So in a way, pets bear witness to our lives without all the chatter of humans. And when they die, that witness is gone.
LikeLike
Bob & Lesley, thanks for sharing your experiences with the death of your pets.
Lesley, the feline leukemia sounds really hard to go through. It’s amazing Angel lived for 7 years after being diagnosed. It truly was a gift that you could let her go.
We were talking about Kaia right before we left our friends’ home, and how she lived a long time with many things wrong with her: heart murmur, EBDT, cancer on one of her ear tips (removed and she was fine), born with weak kidneys and only one was functioning of late, allergies (their vet said they’d never seen a cat with that bad of allergies). They are pretty resilient, I guess just as humans are. Their bodies are able to heal up to a point.
I think there was more going on — but the point is, Kaia really wanted to live and surprised them by living for 6 more years than they thought she would. We called her the Buddha cat because of her even temperament. She was most often at center. And was the peacemaker between Gracie and Gypsy (the two cats that are left). There will be some adjustments between the two of them now that Buddha is gone. 8)
Bob, was that your cat’s real name — Old Black Cat? 8)
LikeLike
Hey, QM, you’re back. I bet you are exhausted. What a hard thing to have to do, and what a selfless thing for you two to be there in spite of the difficulty.
You know, I looked up the meaning for the word “Kaia.” I remember you had once written about her name. What I found was that it means “From the earth.” It sounds like she fit her name; grounded and level-minded. Very much a peacekeeping Buddha’s temperament.
Here’s what I know about Poppy. Its grave marker is along the wall of a flowerbed that I’ve been working. We found the gravemarker the last year, our second summer in the house. We hadn’t found it before because the bed is under both an apple tree and a huge ponderosa. That whole area had been covered in probably a foot or more of dried pine needles, and it tooks us until last summer to rake them out. Then we found Poppy.
The original owners had four children, so we assume Poppy belonged to them. The man we bought the house from was the second owner, and he didn’t move in until the early 1990s. There is another marker next to Poppy’s.
This flower bed is next to the potting shed. Jim swears there is a ghost in the vicinity, probably the same ghost who used to hang out in our master bathroom. She’s not been there for a long time, although Jim still feels her. Often when I’m working out in that area of the yard, I’ll see something out of the corner of my eye. Jim caught me looking once and said, That was the ghost. Or a little gate that closes at the end of a walkway will blow shut.
Jim thinks the ghost is a woman who was a gardener. That she cared a lot about the flower bed and the potting shed. That she is happy as long as we’re keeping up her old roses and such.
Anyway, that Poppy is buried in that same area, I don’t know if or how it is related. But it seemed salient to the story.
Glad you’re home. Rest up.
LikeLike
yb, I agree that this is a lovely post & am so glad you added Larry Kaufman’s advice. When Ebony died most friends & family were very supportive, but a few people did ask if we planned on getting another dog. J & I had decided not to. We couldn’t go through another loss that devasting. She died right before my eyes & she was an older lab, but it came so sudden. She hadn’t been ill at all, but the Vet told us it was probably a heart attack & made the arrangements for a private cremation.
It took over a year for us to decide to get another dog.
When my best friend had her dog put to sleep, she called me as soon as she got home. We both cried for an hour. She did get a puppy, another cattledog a few months later.
She had the puppy flown in from Arizona from a very reliable breeder.
But J & I have decided not to get another dog when Abbey is gone. All of our animals are very old, but no more replacements for us. It’s too difficult to go through when a beloved pet is gone. D
LikeLike
BTW, I committed a terrible error when a co-worker’s German Shepherd was ill. My co-worker had just moved to a new state on the West Coast, and we would talk every couple of weeks by phone. When she moved to that area, she had to deal with her dog having terrible anxiety and, thus, stomach distress. Plus, her cat had been sick with kidney problems. Very sick. This was at the same time Chaco was deathly ill with what sounded like something very similar.
My friend and her husband opted to have surgery performed on the cat, but it didn’t go well. Shortly after, they had their cat put to sleep. The dog did finally adjust to the new locale.
One day not that long ago, I called her for a chat. It was a work conversation, but we always check in on personal stuff. I asked her how her cat was doing. OMG, I can’t believe I did that. I had mixed myself up on her cat, Chaco, her dog!
“Em, well, we put her down about a month ago, remember???” she replied. I felt so horrible. I did exactly what the article said not to do…I didn’t note anything about her cat down. I probably was so busy that I didn’t even allow the of the gravity of the situation to fully hit me when she first told me that her cat had died.
Boy, did I learn a lesson.
LikeLike
The little brick for “Poppy” is so touching. “Doggie Dog” – makes me wonder, was she a retriever, like our family pets.
We had a wonderful female yellow labrador, Sandy, who had two litters of ten.
Our daughter’s best friend adopted Dally from the first litter – K. grew up, got married, had two daughters, got divorced, moved to Oklahoma, Texas, Colorado – and Dally was getting pretty old, about 15 I think. She was grey in the muzzle and slowing down, just lying in the green grass in the sun most of the day.
K. met a lady who said she was a pet psychic. Not very seriously, she asked her, when is Dally going to die, it seems like she is just hanging on.
The woman said, Dally is very tired. She just wants to lie on the grass and rest. She wants you to know she is really sorry about the daffodils. (…she had dug up a bed of bulbs years before and K. had been really mad at her) – – she loves you and the girls very much — and she will be ready to go when her friend comes for her. Her guide is a cat, named “Midori.”
Well when K. was growing up in Corrales she had a cat, her favorite, named Midori.
Dally lasted another few weeks and passed away. peacefully.
LikeLike
Wow, that is amazing, lil.
LikeLike
On December 10, 2008, I euthanized my beloved feline, Isaac. I continue to light a candle for his altar. I received the following beautiful condolence from my spiritual mentor. It began with a poem, following by her own words:
SELF-PORTRAIT
It doesn’t interest me if there is one God
Or many gods.
I want to know if you belong or feel
Abandoned,
If you can know despair or see it in others.
I want to know
If you are prepared to live in the world
With its harsh need
To change you. If you can look back
With firm eyes,
Saying this is where I stand. I want to know
If you know
How to melt into that fierce heat of living,
Falling toward
The center of your longing. I want to know
If you are willing
To live, day by day, with the consequence of love
And the bitter
Unwanted passion of your sure defeat.
I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even
The gods speak of God.
— David Whyte, from River Flow: New and Selected Poems
Dear One,
I offer the poem as comfort in the loss of Isaac’s companionship and as honor for the risk and courage of loving.
I celebrate Isaac
his life
his spirit
his passion
I acknowledge his brave soul that became too big for his little body to hold. Love you, Charlissta
QM: tell your friends that I acknowledge Kaia’s brave soul that became too big for her little body to hold.
yb: Isaac’s ashes lie between the two retablos. Thank you. I miss him so.
LikeLike
Flann, really beautiful poem. I also remember reading words from a card that your vet sent. It made me instantly fall in love with her, such a gentle soul.
Those two retablos are perfect for Isaac, one a raucaus celebration of death (the way the Mexicans know how to do, being that there is life eternal) and the other the soothing presence of a heavenly mother.
And, hope this doesn’t seem too “out of Larry Kaufman’s book,” but I’ll ask anyway because I honestly want to know. How have you fared since December 10? What has the journey to now been like, and where are you now?
LikeLike
yb: I’m crying as I type this. That should tell you a bit of my journey. First, here is the hand-written note I received from the vet who euthanized Isaac here in my home on my lap, Matissta at my side, holding my left hand, me, my right hand on Isaac in my lap as I whispered to him: “Surrender sweet boy. Let love lift you”:
“Dear Flannista,
It has taken me longer than usual to send you a card; Isaac and you touched me more than most and I have not wanted to think about it!
Euthanasias take an emotional toll on me, but they also give me faith in human nature. You are lucky to have shared such a bond with Isaac. Some people never know that love.
I always take a little something with me from a euthanasia . . . sometimes just the way an animal looked, or a story about their life, or an image from the family.
I will remember you and Matissta, and the picture of Isaac as a kitten, with the candle lit. Your notion of his “cat-suit” taken off at night, and of course, his final scratch on the piano bench. Somewhere, he lives on . . . .
Thinking of you, Rhya Marohn”
A friend commented that after reading that note, it was less difficult for her to believe in a loving God.
My journey has been surprising. I am grieving Isaac’s loss more profoundly than the loss of my blood sister eight years ago to multiple sclerosis. I knew Isaac a lot better and he loved me unconditionally. I feel grateful to have had the opportunity to be in his company for nearly 17 years.
I still have not been able to break down and sob — you know the wailing kind and perhaps that is what makes this grief journey different. I find myself whimpering a lot. Or looking at a photo of him on his altar and crying briefly. I often hear his pads on the stairs in the middle of the night. I know he’s around.
A nagging toothache forced me to the dentist where I learned that in just five months I had been grinding my teeth so badly at night that my gums had profoundly deteriorated. My dentist in October had done some special measurement and pronounced my gums “excellent” (I floss and stimu-dent every night religiously). In October, my measurements were between 1 and 2. Last week at the emergency dental appointment, they were between 8 and 9. I had not stopped flossing, etc. I have been grinding my teeth that badly. Never did before in my life. I will need to wear a mouth guard.
All to say that the body will find some way to grieve. It will. Be prepared. I never knew how big and empty the space would be once that small, beautiful creature left it. My heart still aches. He was, in some strange, spiritual way, a champion of my story.
Whenever I hear him in the middle of the night, I think, “Okay, okay, I’ll write more tomorrow. Good night, sweet boy.”
Then, “Surrender. Love lifts you.”
LikeLike
Yes, the body does find a way, doesn’t it? I remember how you flossed religiously. And I know those measurements. I tend to get 2s and 3s on my checkups. But an 8 or a 9? I didn’t realize the scale even reached that high. That’s not good.
This is a beautiful passage from your comment: I never knew how big and empty the space would be once that small, beautiful creature left it. My heart still aches. He was, in some strange, spiritual way, a champion of my story. It makes me wonder if the reason is that he allowed you to be yourself in a way that no one else could. He is your muse, it seems. Even now. Maybe even moreso now.
Rhya Marohn’s note blows me away. Did she care for Isaac as his primary vet? And there is something direct about her words, how she didn’t want to think about how affected she was. Thank God for her.
LikeLike
Thanks so much for your kind understanding, yb.
My regular vet does not make home visits, so I found Rhya through the crematorium I had chosen for Isaac’s remains a few months earlier when he began to fail. Rhya made a home visit a week before to confirm that Isaac was, indeed, on the downward slope. So she had only met him once. Her eye for the last loving details of his life was a great gift to me.
I still cannot bring myself to write about those last moments myself.
Yes, Isaac was and still is my muse. Thank God for him.
LikeLike
YB,
You know our dog “Ringo”. He is 17 years old, and is getting so old. He is having alot of pain when he walks, but he is still hanging in there. My husband is going to Iran in a few weeks, and I asked him what I should do if Ringo dies when he’s gone. (you should know that he loves Ringo so much, maybe more than I do)
He doesn’t want me to call the county to take him away, so my neighbor said that if it does happen, we’ll take him to our cabin and bury him in the country, where he always loves to go. I think that made my husband feel better knowing that Ringo will get a proper burial if he should die while my husband is gone.
PJ
LikeLike
Oh, poor Ringo. And poor M.. He does love Ringo. That would terrible if something happens while M. is in Iran. Do you think it will? I can’t believe Ringo is 17. I remember when you guys got him. He’s such a good dog. I feel sad for him.
Hey, QM, Patty is my sister (the eldest–ha! I tease her about that all the time. She’s sick of it, I’m sure.). I found out today that she didn’t have the red Ravine site address. She is an amazing polymer clay artist. I’m going to take shots of her work over Easter and do a blog post about it. She and her group are creating pieces for cancer patients made out of their medicine bottles. But I’ll wait to talk more about that when I do the post. I didn’t even know she was doing this work until I called to tell her about the Easter gathering. See, we don’t even know half the time what our own family members are doing and what’s going on in their lives. I knew Ringo was getting old, but I didn’t realize he was getting so close to the end. 😦
LikeLike
ybonesy, that sounds wonderful about doing a post on Patty’s work. I wanted to stop by this post a moment to say thank you to all who have written about their pets and shared intimate details of love and loss. I need to take some time to go back and read them all. I’m just amazed at what Flan has shared, and lil and patty and diddy.
Very touching. And timely. I am soaking it all in. After everything that happened with Kaia yesterday, we had to take our cat Chaco back to the vet today and we’ll probably be taking him to a specialist in the next few days. Not a ton of info at the moment. But will post more as I know it. Thanks to all for the good energy this week. Sure can feel it.
LikeLike
My husband and I have a spot on our land that we call “good dog ridge.” It has been watered with so many tears that each Easter a lilly I planted for our old friend, Westmark’s No-Cut Contract (sweetest big headed black lab you could imagine), blooms again. The deer eat it back, but each year it returns.
Buck (my husband) and I have had enough of funerals, and have decided our urns will go with Contract, Amanda Blackvelvet, Spunky Darlin’ and (when her time comes) Maggie a/k/a Little Brown Sugar into the friable earth of Good Dog Ridge.
Thanks for all of your stories.
LikeLike
What unique names, Beth! Amanda Blackvelvet sounds most elegant. And Westmark’s No-Cut Contract? There must be a story behind that name.
When we moved two years ago from our home of 15 years, our two biggest attachments were that we’d given birth to our daughters in the house and that we had bured Roger and Rudy on the property. I’m serious here, we almost did not move because of those two things. (We decided not to move, but our daughters talked back into this new place.)
It was something of a gift to find Poppy’s grave marker. It made us realize how families trust that these sacred places will be honored from family to family. We’ve planted columbine all around Poppy’s grave. Columbine is hard to take in NM. It needs moisture and not too much heat. This one has barely taken. This year I’ll plant a few more grown plants, in mid-May, just to make sure the columbine take within a couple of years.
LikeLike
[…] to posts: Chaco’s Creature Comforts (10 Cat Care Tips), From The Earth, Back To The Earth , Winter Solstice — The Quiet Strength Of Bear, Life Of An American Green Tree […]
LikeLike
[…] to posts: Chaco’s Creature Comforts (10 Cat Care Tips), From The Earth, Back To The Earth , Winter Solstice — The Quiet Strength Of Bear, Life Of An American Green Tree Frog, Children […]
LikeLike