I didn't wake up this morning expecting to have to put one of my pets to sleep. I didn't wake up expecting to have to look into my wife's eyes and tell her that we just don't have the money to pay to keep our cat alive. I didn't wake up expecting to carry a cardboard box and a shovel out into the woods.
And then the drive home. Oh God, the drive home.
I know what you're thinking. It's just a cat, it's not like your mom or dad died. You know what? You're right. But it still hurts.
Louie had been losing weight for a while, at least a couple of months. He hadn't been eating for a couple of days. He started vomiting on Saturday. We wanted to take him to the vet much earlier, but Bekah had been without a job for more than six months and our finances were just stretched too thin. We finally got enough together to take him in today. After running a lot of tests, the vet told me that Louie had FIV. That's the feline version of HIV. His weakened immune system had led to total renal failure. There were treatments available, but they were at best a stall, and we just don't have upwards of $1500.
What made this all so difficult is that Louie is more than just a cat. He was Bekah's cat.
We got our cats back in October of 2004 when we were living in Florida. I was a student at Full Sail at the time. Since then, I've held six different jobs, lived in seven different apartments, gone to four different churches, and lived in three different states. Through all that, one of the few constants in our lives was our wonderful kittens. They brought so much fun and joy into our lives.
When you get a new pet, you know it's temporary. In the back of your mind when you're taking that baby animal home is that in a few years, they're going to leave you. Responsible pet ownership is about realizing this and making the most of the time you have with that animal. The average lifespan of a house cat is about 15 years. Louie was 6.
Like I said, I didn't expect to go through this today. We were supposed to have 9 or 10 more years with him.
Like I said, he was Bekah's cat. He picked her out as his favorite from day one. He snuggled between her legs at night. He walked around the dining room meowing to himself until she acknowledged him. He sat in her lap and fell asleep watching TV. He kept her company when I was in basic training. He was her cat, and she was his human. I miss him, but not even close to how much Bekah misses him.
We named him 'Louie' because he liked to walk around meowing to himself. His little kitty voice had a sort of gravelly-gurgley quality to it, so we named him after Louis Armstrong. He and his sister both were black and white 'tuxedo' kittys, so we named them Louie and Ella. He would snuggle up against the back of Bekah's legs so closely at night as to make any kind of movement all but impossible. When you would eventually disturb him by shifting around, he would complain a bit, but wait until you were done and then snuggle right back in. On Saturdays, he would wait until Bekah got up and came downstairs, then follow her down, snuggle back in with her when she laid down on the couch, and go back to sleep as she watched TV. She called him "her little motor" because he would purr so loudly and smoothly. He kept her warm at night when I wasn't there to do so.
When he was just a baby, he was the biggest wimp you could imagine. He relied on his big sister Ella to lead the way in exploring and playing. For a long time, he was basically her shadow. She would get into mischief and he would be right there behind her. I remember dangling a string for him to play with. He would latch onto it with his claws and I could pull him right off the floor and he would just hang in the air, refusing to let go of his prize. We called him our "dangling kitty".
He used to stand there and twitch his tail excitedly when we were opening a can of tuna. While all three kittens were drinking the drained tuna water we put in a bowl for them, he would reach in and pull the bowl away from the other two and closer to himself. He would also pull bits of food and even water out of the dish and eat or drink off the floor. He liked to show us one of his fangs, which we dubbed his "snaggletooth". I'll miss the snaggletooth.
He was a good cat, and a good friend. He was the one I counted on to comfort Bekah when she was feeling down or lonely.
That's why today was the hardest one of my life.
Losing a pet was hard enough, but watching my wife say goodbye to her pet - HER friend - broke my heart in a way I've never felt before.
Yes, the pain will lessen. But for right now, it hurts. A lot. And it's not going to be easy.
It's got me thinking about death. A lot of people blame God when tragedy strikes or a loved one dies. The first family member I lost was my paternal grandfather in July of 2006. I didn't blame God then for the loss of my grandfather after a two-year battle with leukemia any more than I blame him now for the premature loss of a pet. But it still hurts.
It's a result of sin and the fall. And someday, it won't happen anymore. The loss of our pet reminds us that life is fleeting, temporary, ephemeral. We love deeply and then it's over. Yes, death has been ultimately defeated. But it's still all too real. For right now, it hurts. A lot.
When you've cried all the tears you have and your body is still wracked with sobs, when the carpet is wet from weeping on the floor, when you have to face that first night without the one you love, when you have to go on with your daily life the next day, what then? Where is that ultimate victory? What does life even mean? Whether it's your grandfather or just a little kitty, where does life's intrinsic value come from? Why do we even have the capability to love in the first place?
How long will we suffer? How long will we wait for eternal life? How long until death is no more? How long until the very memory of the word is banished from our minds?
How long, Lord? How long until you heal the broken-hearted? How long until you do what you said you would do?
My deliverer is coming, my deliverer is standing by.
For right now, it hurts. A lot.
How long, O Lord?
Louie Sims
August 2004 - January 3, 2011
