I stood before the desk, wiping tears and hiccupping breaths, as I presented the poor girl the unhappy animal, and spoke its name. The young technician robotically retrieved a clipboard from the wall — it already bore the name that I spoke — and clinically asked me to initial and sign the paper it held.
She was every bit as uncomfortable facing me as I felt appearing before her. I thought I had sufficiently steeled myself as I lifted the kitty into the carrier and quickly made my way out of the house. Laurel was on a phone call — it was a perfect time to quietly smuggle her out. The whole point of the exercise — well, the second point, anyway — was to execute in such a way that nothing about this would come to Laurel’s mind. I placed kitty in the car, moved to the driver’s side, and was about to back out when Laurel emerged from the house and mouthed to me that she wanted to say goodbye. In the instant I took the car out of gear my steel facade fell to the floorboard like a crumpled fast-food napkin. And so I stood before the girl in the pink scrubs ten minutes later, sobbing and looking like I’d been awake for days.
A few minutes later I was back in the car. I didn’t want to be present for the procedure; I didn’t want to wait for the carrier — I told them I’d come back later to pick it up. As I drove home I figured I’d better pick up some lunch — more for a lame attempt at misdirection than as a function of actual hunger.
When I returned, Laurel answered the door and she looked every bit as bad as did I. I had failed to smuggle out kitty without detection — this scene was precisely what I was trying to avoid. Through her tears she thanked me repeatedly for braving the awful task.
Well, I wasn’t so brave. But the deed is done. Done out of love and respect and in the hope that she’s sleeping peacefully, no longer tormented by whatever prompted her screams. Laurel and I had convinced ourselves that some product of her dementia was scaring the Hell out of her every day and every night, and allowing the torture to continue was something we could not abide.
If nothing else, I hope I appeared to the technician as a man who really loved this cat. I do.
Kitty had enjoyed a good morning — and minutes before had been curled up in her box. The sunshine streamed through the window beside it and bathed her in light and warmth.
We miss you so.
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