Blog On

Eleventh Hour Reprieve

I stayed on the sofa with "Nellie" all evening and into the early hours of Monday monrning. Some old movie held my eyes awake until 3:30 am. "Nellie," my twenty year old kitty, slept on the back of the sofa, occassionally getting up to stretch and rearrage her bundle of fur on the green bath towel designated as her nap spot.

I turned off the gas heater, and dragged my blue thermo-blanket to the bedroom with me. "Big Bad John," the lab, followed me into the bed to sleep. He fell asleep quickly, but I couldn't. When the sun rose on Monday, I'd decided to euthanize my best kitty. The vet had diagnosed kidney disease, and poor kitty hadn't gone poop in the five days since the vet had examined and prescribed several types of medicine and special food.

I tossed and turned in the bed, not knowing how much sleep I actually got. I gave up on trying to sleep anymore around noon, and ran quickly to the shower to wake up and warm up. When I arrived back in the den in the early afternoon, "Nellie" was actively walking around the room, and quickly let me know she expected breakfast. All the loving she'd gotten over the weekend had left her wanting more.

I opened a jar of ham baby food, and was amazed at the appetite "Nellie" had. Active, appetite, if she would just go poop to prove her body could still handle it's functions. . . that was what I'd been wishing for over a week and a half.

She was so active, I began crying, telling myself I couldn't take her to her death when she acted so normal. But it was all set up with Mom to drive us to the vet's office. She'd be by my house to pick us up a little after 2:00, when she finished with her dental appointment.

Though the television was on, I was in my own world of sounds and memories of our twenty years of being companions. I recognized the scratching in the litter box at 1:15 pm. Relatively certain she had gone to pee, I crept around the corner so as not to disturb whatever natural function was going on.

It was poop, wonderful brown stinky poop! I gave "Nellie" time to cover her leavings, then I picked her up and hugged her and kissed her. This doesn't mean her kidney disease is gone, but it means her body is functioning, and she doesn't seem to be in pain at all. If she's not in pain, I'm not going to put her to sleep.

About 15 minutes after the poop, the German Shepherd retreived the litter covered poop from the box, and carried it to her favorite carpet to munch on. Cat feces have non-digested material that dogs love, just like candy. "Shadow" got a serious scolding, and I flushed the brown amazement down the toilet.

So, "Old Nellie" received a reprieve from euthanasia for the time being. And I learned an important lesson about love, and having faith in a power higher than man, and not jumping the gun on things that can't be taken back.