the old-school guestbook archives
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RIP: tupelo honey, 2003 - 2003 ~ June 11, 2003 - 7:36 p.m. my sweet tupelo honey. nuggin. my special little guy. I miss him so. my sister wrote: Very sorry. His short life was a special one for a kitten in his neck of the woods. Because of you. :) this is what I try to remember. this is what happened... monday night, my baby was fine. tuesday morning, he was limp, glassy-eyed. on my way out the door for work, I put him in the litter box and he lay down. cats don't do that. not unless they're very, very sick. I started to cry. because I've been worried. he wasn't gaining any weight-- literally skin and bones. and one of my students, just a few days ago, said: you know, they say it's impossible to make a kitten healthy if it leaves its mother too soon. a lot of them die. and that's been haunting me, just a bit. for a few days he had lost his nighttime bed priveliges, because he had a special love for pooping on the bed. but the last couple of nights of his life, I let him back on the bed to sleep with me. even though it meant waking up in shit. and now I'm glad I did. at least he got to sleep his last couple of nights with his mama. I must have had a feeling. that, and realizing, on sunday, just how skinny my little nuggin was. amazing that he was as strong, as vibrant as he was in spite of it. so tuesday morning, when he went limp, I freaked out. I called in to work and burst into tears as I told the DP that I thought my cat was dying. she told me to go ahead and take him to the vet, they'd cover for me no problem. luckily, I'd already been to the vet once, so I knew where it was and he seemed like a good guy. I left the house in such a state that I forgot my motorcycle helmet. rode one-handed across town, cradling my babycat in the other arm. I saw a man here do the same thing with an infant child one night. got to the vet and told him my cat was dying. by that time, tupelo was too weak to lift up his head, and breathing erratically. the vet pinched the skin on the back of his neck and hooked him up to a kitty IV. I stayed with him, for hours, rubbing his head, nuzzling him. I cried, knowing that I was watching my kitten die. he kept having these weird seizures where he would arch back, his pupils dilated, mouth open. the doctor would come by from time to time, move the IV needle from his scruff to his leg, to the other leg. he'd pinch his neck, adjust the drip. I sat and loved my baby and ached all over. thinking about what a sweet and special cat he was. what a lover, always following me around the house, calling out through the bedroom door when I came home. he'd lie on my chest while I read and nuzzle my face. and so we stayed, for hours. and then, he started to perk up. I looked in his eyes, and he was back in them, looking back at me. I nuzzled him, and there was the unmistakeable vibration of his purr. and then I began to hope, that he was gonna pull through. when the doctor unhooked the IV, tupelo stood up and walked around. wobbly, it's true, but walking. the doctor fed him some vitamin gel, which he ate happily. I kissed him and kissed him. what a tough little guy. the vet told me if he was still tired at 5, I should bring him back for another IV. we were both happy, excited for my nuggin's recovery. so I took him home, and wrapped him up warm, and loved him. I gave him a dish of food, and he ate and ate. I was so happy. fate is so cruel sometimes. I went to get my pay from school, and then came back at 5. baby was still sleepy and listless, although able to walk around, so I took him back to the vet. just to be sure. and it was there that he went downhill again. they put him back on the IV. the assistant came and gave him a shot. I don't know what. I felt his little ribcage, and his heart was racing. he went limp again. he seized again. the doctor came by, and I was cradling him to my chest. everything okay here? he asked. I don't know, I said. he's more like he was this morning. I don't think so, said the doctor. but then he checked him, and it was unmistakeable. he went to the assistant in the other room, and I thought I heard him ask in lao how much the assistant had given him of something. but then my lao's not that good. and you really can't point fingers, anyway. I think it was just his time to go. the doctor came back and suggested we put him back on the IV. let's try that, he said, but I could tell by his face that he didn't have much hope that he'd pull through it this time. and by that time, my kitty'd been stuck so much that he had veins like a heroin addict's. the vet couldn't get a needle in. he tried squeezing some water into his mouth with a syringe, and he could swallow, so he told me to try that. gave me some saline stuff to mix with the water and told me to give it to him every 20 or 30 minutes. unless you want to leave him here, he said. but no. if my kitten was going to die, I wanted him to do it at home with his mama. so I took him home. the vet undercharged me for the second visit, told me to bring him back in the morning. but we both knew he probably wouldn't last the night. took him home. mixed up the solution. tried to squeeze it in with the syringe, but I think it went down his windpipe instead. he gagged and coughed. he meowled. he tossed his head. he could still breathe, but he was obviously in pain. he kept retching. I put him on my chest and held him. I tilted my back into half-bridge so that his head was angled down, and then he was able to cough up the water. and then he died. lying on my heart. he died. my baby. at least he didn't suffer more than he had to. at least he died with me, who he loved more than anything. at least, for one week, he knew more love than any cat in lao ever does. he needed love. and if I hadn't taken him in, he probably would have died anyway, and died alone. my nuggin. my sweet lil' guy. I miss him so much. I've had cats die before, but there have always been other cats in the house. I've never known this emptiness before, this silence. I'm glad I put away his food dishes and his litterbox right away. as it is, I'm still caught when I don't hear him calling through the bedroom door when I come home. I still hear cats meowing and think that it's him. my house is so quiet, so still. when he died, I burned some incense, prayed for his spirit. I dug the grave out in the yard with a spoon from the kitchen. I placed a new offering on the altar in my bedroom-- a bowl of friskies. when the incense burned down, I buried my baby, and cried. I drew a heart in the dirt over his grave. I'm letting go, the way you have to, but I can't help this sadness, the tears that come when I think of how he used to nuzzle my face and purr like an engine, a purr so much bigger than his little self. oh, my baby. I loved him so.
(((rings))) |