Eighteen Years Wasn’t Long Enough

It is with tremendous sadness that I share my first post of the year. My dear sweet Muffin crossed to Rainbow Bridge last night. After a month of fighting so hard to keep going, it was clear that it was time to let her go.

Sweet Dreams Baby Girl 1995-2013

 

Shortly after finishing up my post last night I noticed that Muffin was having labored breathing. She sat down next to her food bowl and her sides were heaving. I thought perhaps it was a side effect of the chemo medicine I had just started her on. The kind nurse at the emergency room informed me it wasn’t, then said she thought Muffin might be having an allergic reaction. When they ruled that out I said I would monitor her, and if it didn’t improve in an hour I would bring her in. Well, it didn’t improve in an hour. So out we went on a very snowy New Year’s Eve. I knew in my gut that she wasn’t going to come home with us. Not the way I thought I knew previous times, but deep in my soul, I knew.  Sparing all the details at the ER, after examining her, they discovered fluid in her chest. As soon as the doctor told me that, I broke down in tears. I knew then that she had at most days with us. I had them drain the fluids. They got 180mL out of her before they had to stop, because she was  getting ornery. Then I knew, I knew she wouldn’t make it to 2014. I knew she wouldn’t make it to Thursday, when my regular veterinarian is open.

They brought her back to us, and we cried. She was finally done. You could see in her eyes, the fight had gone out of her and she looked so, so tired. Even as I knew it was time, part of me fought so hard.  Inside I was screaming, “No! NO! Don’t do it! TAKE HER HOME! MAKE HER BETTER!” Especially after I told the doctor of my decision. I wanted to grab her and run away. The realization (that I have been trying to come to terms with for weeks) that she wasn’t going to be around anymore stabbed my heart and tore it to a thousand pieces. I kissed her, hugged her, stroked her. I just kept telling her over and over her fight was done. I told her we would find a way to survive without her. I would have stayed there all night holding off just a little longer. I kept wanting to say NO! NO COME BACK! BRING MY KITTY BACK! But I knew that it would never happen. My kitty, my sweet Muffin was gone. Her spirit and personality and soul were gone. She was trapped in a failing body and nothing good would come of it. When I finally told my mom to let the doctor know it was time, I broke even more. As Muffin’s life slipped from her, I held her the best I could. Kissing her, loving her and told her her fight was done. Once she left me and joined her brother over the Rainbow Bridge, I lost it. I vaguely remember screaming, crumpling in on myself as I howled with grief at the loss of my beautiful little girl. I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t leave her sweet, soft body behind. My mom finally went to get a someone so they could  take my sweet girl’s body away. I wouldn’t leave until they took her.

It has been so hard to cope. Part of me feels at peace. I am not worrying about her anymore. I am not stressed about her anymore. I don’t have to watch like a hawk to see if this round of medicine makes her better. I know she is not suffering. I know she is at peace. The other part of me is completely broken. Wondering how I will ever cope without her. Wondering how I will ever live without my girl and what the point is. I slept with a death grip on her bed and her Christmas stocking which was filled with some of her favorite toys.

So begins the slow process of healing. Please say a prayer for her. And let’s say a prayer that there is such a place as Rainbow Bridge so that one day we can all be reunited with our four legged loved ones.

Eighteen years ago I brought this tiny ball of fluff into my life.