Came home from our weekend in Shelton/Seattle last night, after midnight, tired, cranky, and just ready to go to bed. It took a bit longer than usual, but Franklin came trotting out to greet me in the foyer, and I expected Daisy to be not far behind.
She wasn’t.
I found her tiny body stretched out on the cool tile floor of the bathroom, already stiff. Although part of me had been expecting this each time I came home, most of me didn’t believe that her death was imminent.
She went through a stretch about a month ago where I thought she was close but she seemed to bounce back from that, and seemed to be at her “normal” most recently and certainly before I left for the weekend. Still hopped up on my lap for cuddles, still demanded attention constantly, was still eating, drinking, grooming, and had normal bodily functions. Although I’ve never watched a cat decline, it didn’t seem like it was her time yet.
Sure, I knew that with renal failure and some other congenital issues that she wasn’t going to live a long, full life, but I also thought she still had some fight left in her. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to say goodbye but in a way I’m grateful that she made her own decision of when to go and that I didn’t have to make it for her … and then always wonder if I’d done the right thing at the right time.
So today I face the unpleasant task of dealing with her remains; I’ll call the SPCA and/or my vet when they’re open and find out what my options are.
Daisy, in your two years, you lived a life of passion, a vocal life, and you were always a fighter, whether it was fighting being sick, fighting the treatments (or pretty much anything else you didn’t like!), or fighting off Franklin’s playful (and less-than-playful) attacks. I can’t quite tell yet how he feels about you being gone – when I packed up your body to move it into the cooler air outside, he stared out the glass door at the bag for a bit, and looked at me as if to say “I don’t understand.” As I crawled into bed I saw him sniffing around the spot in the bathroom where you spent your last moments. I think he gets it to some degree. You two weren’t the best of friends, but I bet he’ll miss you.
RIP, Daisy.