A Celebration of Life and One Extraordinary Soul

One of the hardest things to experience in life is to watch a beloved pet age.  Some of you may recall that back in October my cat, Hunter, who will be 18 in May, started displaying certain symptoms that required medical care. After spending countless dollars and seeing three different vets, the only diagnosis confirmed was that he had the onset of kidney failure (although just barely, especially for a cat his age).  They could NOT figure out the cause of the blood in his urine or the drastic weight loss. I suspected bladder cancer, but the vets were doubtful since it is rare in cats.

About three weeks ago, the blood in his urine increased and.....increased. I took Hunter back to the vet where they finally confirmed that he does, in fact, have bladder cancer. Besides being terribly skinny, his demeanor remained the same. As he pranced around the vet's office lapping up affection from everyone, the vet agreed - we aren't quite at the stage where humane euthanasia is necessary. But for how long we do not know.

We have been undergoing hospice care ever since.  Up until this past weekend, he has continued to amaze me each day with his positive spirit and will to fight.   However, the last few days have reminded me how sick he really is and that perhaps "decision time" is nearing.

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened." ~ Anatole France

It's funny how in these past several months it no longer bothers me when Hunter wakes me up at the crack of dawn (or earlier).  Instead I relish in the sound of his meows regardless of the time.  And, now, after years of shushing him in the middle of the night, I finally celebrate the sound of his voice - regardless of time - knowing that I have been blessed with one more day with him.

I've also been treasuring his cuddles more than ever, recognizing these moments for what they are - my last opportunities to capture the feel of his fur next to my skin, the warmth of his body, the touch of his wet nose and rough tongue on my hand. Because when he is gone, THESE are the things I will miss the most. On many levels, I feel his increased affection is his way of clinging to me and my touch, my warmth, the same way I am clinging to his.  He is gathering up strength to leave while giving me the strength to survive his loss. In essence, we are bottling up each other's love.

At the same time, I have been fighting the tendency we have to treat the dying as if they are already dead. When, in actuality, they are the same living, breathing souls that entered our hearts all those years ago and set up house.  A friend recently reminded  me that it's how we live our moments, how we embrace them, that's important.

And, so with that reminder, I'm trying to gather up the courage to do right by Hunter - whatever the hell that means.  But I know in the end, I will look back at Hunter's remarkable 18 years with me and I will know that I wouldn't give up one day spent with him to have the pain I feel today taken away.  In the end, it would have all been worth it, to have been blessed with his love and companionship. 

And, then, when I'm ready, I will go to the shelter and, in his honor, I will rescue another beautiful soul and begin the journey all over again.  Because if there is one thing Hunter has taught me, it is to love without restraints regardless of fear. Therefore, in honoring his spirit and zest for life, I will do just that for as long as I live.

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