Home From The Road: Not a Happy Entry

         When the Tinman gets his “heart” in the movie “the Wizard of Oz” he says he knows he has a heart now because it is breaking. I got home from 10 days on the road Thursday morning. I had hoped to document my adventures of that trip, but other things have taken precedence. My heart is breaking….

It was in late November 1997 I had to have Ron’s cat Chloe put down because her quality of life had diminished so. She was my last link to Ron who died in 1992. Chloe and I had five happy years together. Her death affected me so at a very vulnerable time in my life. I had been living in limbo with my best friend Joe after my house sold the previous March. Pretty much all my belongings had been moved to Alabama and the transfer south was up in the air. I never turned down overtime and 60 hour weeks became the norm for me. I look at pictures of myself from that time and see a gray, emancipated, depressed mess.

In my old house October, 1996. Mom’s old cat Fuzzie is on the left, Chloe is on the right. Fuzzie died in late October of 1996 when I was out of town. That was the week I drove an overloaded U-Haul truck with most of my heavy & big stuff to Alabama. My sisters found him in a sleeping position by the front door when they came to check up.  Ron is in the picture on the desk. Why is there is always a coffee cup in almost all my pictures?!

My good friend Brian called me in early January of 1998 wanting me to fess up to him. He had been told I was sick with AIDS. He was upset that I never told him I was HIV +. I lost it. I had been tested back in 1990 and got the results I was in fact HIV-.  Practical person that I am, I made the decision to be tested so I could make an informed choice on maxing out my retirement savings, or enjoying the money I had while I could. Back in 1980’s through the early 1990’s having HIV was a death sentence. I had friends who were dying weekly proving that point.  There was nothing since that test I had done to compromise my status. My appearance was that shitty, people were assuming I was dying with AIDS and spreading the “news”.  

It was Memorial Day weekend I made the move to Alabama and turned the corner. It was some three weeks after that move Daggy and Stumpy were adopted from the shelter. Dagney was such a scrawny little mess. I knew if I did not adopt her she would never make out of that shelter.

Here is Dagneys first day out of the shelter along with her overbearing “brother” Stumpy.

Dagney developed into a beautiful Tortishell cat. For whatever reason she evolved to be a one person cat, shying away from pretty much everyone but me. She was such a trooper when we had to relocate to Bowling Green, KY for 13 months.

Daggy and Stumpy helped me transition from what I now realize was a form of depression, into a happy, stable life in Alabama. We have enjoyed over 15 happy years together.

The past few months have not gone well for my little girl. Dagney has been less and less mobile preferring to sleep in special spots on the floor. She is very overweight with short “stick legs”. I notice how she is slow to get up and lay down now. She seldom climbs up into the bed with me me, she never goes up the stairs now to the second floor; once her favourite spot to be. There is no doubt in my

mind her joints are hurting. She started “missing” the litter box a few months back. A week before I was to leave for the road she stopped using it full time. I papered the kitchen floor with “puppy training pads” and left instructions so the cat sitter would know what to expect.

When I opened the door Thursday morning after some 10 days on the road, Stumpy was waiting right there to run outside. Daggy was under the bed. I could smell the distinct odour of cat urine. When she finally emerged from under the bed, I realized the fur on her hindquarters was caked and matted from dried pee. She let me wash her back end with mild shampoo and comb out the tangles. I knew the day was fast approaching when I would have to make the big decision.

As fate would have it I listened to the Terri Gross interview that night on NPR. She was interviewing John Bradshaw who has studied the history of domesticated cats and how the relationship between people and cats has changed. He’s the author of the new book Cat Sense: How the New Feline Science Can Make You a Better Friend to Your Pet, which is a follow-up to his book Dog Sense.

Here is a link to a podcast of that interview.

http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=219254626&m=219300564

The last few minutes of this interview made me finally realize it was time to let Dagney go.

My precious cat Dagney does not really have much quality of life left at this point.  Tomorrow I’ll make a trip to the Vet so see if he will do a house call to put her down. I don’t care what it costs. I would rather her die here at home in familiar surroundings, on my lap than in his sterile office.

My neighbor Michelle kept her old cat going with medications, saline injections, and who knows what else for such a long time. He “lived” to be 22, but I could tell when I’d babysit he was in Hell. It is selfish, and cruel in my book to do such extreme measures.

Dagney is on the rug as I type this out keeping me company as she has as I have composed so many of my journal entries. Pictures cover up a lot of faults…it is hard to tell she is hurting. This might be the last picture I ever take of my girl.

I really feel like shit now, but I know I have to do this. Writing this all out helps a lot.