Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Racecar died of an illness called FIP, which has a 100% mortality rate. Its a disease that the vets couldn't do more about than put him on steroids to do away with the pain. While we were expecting to have him for many months to many years, he suddenly took a turn for the worst. He was suffering and having seizures every hour. He eventually couldn't walk, or even get out of the bed to eat or use his own litterbox. I stood by him for every moment I could. I fed him through syringes and forgave him for not being able to make it to his restroom.
I kept my hand on him at night just so I could feel his breathing, just so I could know when he had left....
He didn't dare leave while we were looking. It was as if he wanted to hide so that we wouldn't be as sad, but I wanted him in my arms when he went. I wanted to be there every second for him until the end. The vets could do nothing more for him and when we realized how much pain he was probably in, we scheduled an appointment for him, to get him put down. The day seemed so normal when I stepped outside, though the air around us was filled with loneliness.
The vet allowed me to hold him when they gave him the injection. He was curled up in the new blanket I had got just after Christmas. We had been sharing that blanket together for quite some time and I would even take him to the vet in it. I kept telling him my last goodbyes, kissing his forehead, and petting him.
It only took seconds for him to go after the needle went in. I even believe that he had died just seconds before the injection. It seemed like an eternity I spent with him after he had gone, but at the same time, it all felt too short. I was angry because the vet told me he would just look like he was sleeping, but one of his eyes was open and the other was just barely unclosed. He had his tongue sticking out as well, and we couldn't do anything about it. If we tried to close his eyes, he just looked angry, and I was afraid to do anything more. I later realized that this was the face he gave me a great deal when I was upset. It seemed like it was his way of saying that everything would be okay.
Under any other circumstance, with any other pet, I wouldn't be near it if it was dead. I feel like it's bad luck to be near something so lifeless. However, I clung to Racecar and called out his name; I think I was trying to wake him out of his permanent slumber. I pet him until I felt I was no longer stable enough to hold him anymore.
I regret not spending all the time I could with him while I could. I regret a lot of things when it comes down to it. I know I gave him a good life, but I feel like it could have been a lot better.
We had him cremated and bought him a nice urn. He sits on top of the bookshelf with his certificate of death. Jason bought me a beautiful pendant meant to keep a few of the ashes in, and I wear it everywhere but to bed and in the shower. I hope that one day, Race and I will meet again. Life just isn't the same without him
Still, every night, just like before he went away, I tell him "Good night, Race. Sweet dreams and sleep well. I love you."