M is for Morris

My oldest cat Morris died on February 20th of this year.  We'd been traveling down this path for some time, he and I.  There were signs, of course, but I missed them in the busyness of life.  I feel a little guilty about that, but I can't rewind.   Morris certainly didn't help me figure out what was going on; cats always try to hide their illnesses.  Eventually, however, I noticed that my cranky, irascible friend had stopped eating. 

I gave him treats.  I bought him some soft food; I even tried his favorite, pureed chicken.  He turned up his nose at them all; turned his back on the bowl as if he didn't want to see what he was missing.  That's when I knew.  I contacted the vet, put Morris into his carrier, and we made the trip together, just like we always did. 

Morris hated the vet.  It was nothing personal; he just did not like going to the vet. Even the most gentle of doctors was treated to hissing and growling.  Morris was known to fight any attempts to examine him, and the one time he had to have a catheter several people were bitten.  This time the vet delivered the bad news that Morris was too far into kidney failure to save; even a blood transfusion would only buy him a brief respite. 

When your friend is dying, you do what you can to ease their passing.  I brought a favorite blanket for him to lie on.  He was too weak to do much more than lay there.  I stroked his head for a long time, and he purred weakly while I cried.  I've never been good at goodbyes.  My husband arrived, and he said his goodbyes to Morris and held my hand as the vet came back into the room.

It was somehow so Morris that with his last bit of strength he would try to bite the vet.  I guess that he knew.  I kept my hand on him through everything, my fingers entwined in his fur as the drugs took effect.  One, two more shallow breaths...and then he was gone.   After that, there was not much more to do or say.  I cried for a long time. 

We had sixteen years together, and although he was a cranky cat, I loved him very much.  I hope that he is in kitty heaven, snacking on cat treats to his heart's desire, the hands of angels brushing his soft fur while he purrs in contentment.  

But I miss him.