scijessreads

When you love anything, you know that there is a finite end to it all. “The result of a long and fulfilling life. Worth every second, but still resulting in pain. Love always ended in grief for someone. It was a testament to its power that we threw ourselves headlong into it anyway, knowing what would happen.” That quote is from a spicy romance (Knot all the Glitters by Devyn Sinclair), but it holds so very true for this moment in my own life. Last week I had to make the difficult, but necessary, choice to say goodbye to my feline companion of over 18 years. I am still not sure I’ve processed the whole thing yet. It feels so distant, and yet fresh at the same time,

Maya has been my sidekick since grad school. In my second year in Colorado, I adopted her from a PetSmart event. At the time, she was named Velvet and was 1 year old. In the intervening 18 years, she has been by my side for grad school, the loss of my paternal grandparents, moving to Tennessee for my post-doc, moving to FL for my first teaching job, and moving to Texas for my current job.

She was never a snuggler, but would always be up for ear scratches and rubbing against ankles. She loved to sit near you for pets, but would immediately wiggle out of your grip if you tried to pick her up. And forget about putting her in a carrier, she did her damnedest to avoid that thing. And going to the vet’s office. She was a great alarm clock (food was important). She was a constant source of life. And a cheese thief.

When I ended up adopting Honey (the dog), she quickly claimed the top spot in the house hierarchy and they managed to live together for 11 years in relative harmony. Which means for the most part they ignored each other. But they would cooperate for cheese and cheese-flavored food thievery.

Over the past year or so, I’ve known that Maya was slowing down. She was 18, which is old for a cat, and it was starting to show in her fur and her mobility. She maintained her sweet nature, but I could tell things were different. It wasn’t until two days before I had to take her to the vet that things took a turn. She stopped jumping up on things, she moved even less, and it was hard for her to use her hind legs. The final thing that tipped the scales was her lack of appetite.

I swear, that vet visit was the hardest night of my life so far. Maya was basically my first child. She was fully my cat, and we had lived a life together. I am very much one of those who consider pets family, and she was mine. I am. so grateful for my vet’s office, they were compassionate and kind and helped me make the hardest decision to let Maya go peacefully since she was definitely not living a full life anymore. I was able to spend time with her before and after and be there while the vet administered the drugs. I am not really a person who cries very often, but I full-on sobbed that night. And coming home after was hard, because I missed having her meows and gentle head-butts.

Right after I got out of the vet, I called my best friend to talk before I could manage the energy to drive home. It was definitely needed, she knew how much I loved Maya (and had been a happy cat-sitter when. we lived in Florida). And now, over a week later, it randomly hits me how much quieter the house is now that she is gone. Luckily Honey is doing OK and has adjusted well. The first few nights she slept in Maya’s spot, but has been getting back to her own routine the last few days.

All this to say, hug your loved ones (whether they be human or furry or other). Enjoy all the time you have with them, make the best memories, and know that even when it hurts, the love and time spent together is definitely worth it.