Coffee is for Closers - Part 2

While Dave was off being judged on his ethics, I was home receiving the phone call from the vet that Matisse, our 15 year old cat, was in total renal failure. Her exact words were something like, "Judging by these test numbers, I don't think his kidneys are working at all. You should really think about what you want to do."

The Saturday before, Tate caught a glimpse of the ever skittish Matisse from the corner of his eye and pounced just in time to catch the sleek and stealthy black cat in his grasp. We let Tate hold him for a few minutes, as it was very rare that Tate got to even pet this cat. When we finally made Tate release him, we noticed that Matisse was limping a bit. Later in the day, he wasn't really any better and that's when we realized that he hadn't been eating all that much recently either, and seemed to have experienced a very quick weight loss. Sunday, we kept him quiet and he spent most of the day in our bedroom which is rare. Not once did he venture upstairs to his favorite hide-away. Monday, I called the vet and brought him in for some tests. They suspected renal problems and rehydrated him and did some bloodwork to determine what we were dealing with. Their advice was that he might not be all that bad, and that we could probably keep him comfortable and happy for a while with regular hydration. So there, in the vet's office, while Tate looked on and Simone screamed in the vet tech's arms, I learned how to administer sub-cutaneous fluids to a kitty. That first needle poke was rather frightening for me, but Matisse took it like a champ. He was always a very accommodating cat. I took him home that afternoon, planning on becoming Florence Nightengale to my ever stoic, regal little boy. If I had to stick him with a needle every day, I would do it, so that he would feel better. He was a super sweet cat, and it was worth putting in the effort for him.

However, the next day I answered the call from the vet that confirmed he was sicker than we hoped, and that he really had no hope for survival beyond a few days. When Dave came home from the Ethics Commission meeting, we squirreled away from the kids to talk about what we were going to do. It was one of the hardest conversations we've ever had. How do you discuss putting down one of your animals? What's the right thing thing to say? No matter how much you know your doing the right thing, your still making a decision to kill a cat you've cared about for 15 years. We were devastated for us, we loved that cat. And we were devasted for Tate, it was the first time he would lose something he really loved. We called the vet and made an appointment for 1pm, and then arranged for Tate to go to a friend's house. We took photos of us with Matisse while saying our good-byes. Packed everyone up, dropped Tate at his friend Grace's house and then drove to Providence.

When we arrived in the vet's office, we were quickly ushered into a room to await the event. I really don't think I can find the words to describe how I felt at that moment. Or during. It was so hard. And so sad. But we held him as he went to sleep and then dropped tears onto his fur as he took his last breathe. He knew he was loved, and in that moment it was the best we could do.

I remember the day we got him. My then boss's mom's cat had babies under the porch of her house in Newport. The kittens were wrapped up in the umbilical cord and needed to be untangled. One of the kittens didn't make it. Eight weeks later, I was picking out one of the kittens to take home. I was smart and chose the only kitten NOT climbing the curtains in the house. He was a great cat. So regal and so well-behaved. He would hide for strangers, but was always present for us. He was so cool that he even played fetch. Our dog doesn't even play fetch, but Matisse did! I was crying while writing this and crying while choosing photos for this post.

I will always miss that boy. He was special.

That's one check for the sad/negative column.

Up next… the closing.