Only a very select few people will understand the title of this post, and that's ok.
I went back and forth in my mind for awhile trying to decide whether or not I wanted to write about this, but I decided since I don't keep any other form of a journal I probably should.
I'll start with a little background to this story. About 7 or 8 years ago (no one can remember for sure, but I was in Junior High) we found a little family of kittens living under our front porch. Our dog Baxter was the first one to notice them and immediately notified my dad that he had found something. Initially my dad assumed maybe it was a raccoon so he took the hose and started spraying the hole where the dog was barking. Out ran five little kittens. Unfortunately Baxter got to one of them and it didn't make it, one got away, and the other three ended up living with us. I immediately gave them names, much to my Dad's dismay. Obviously we couldn't keep THREE cats, right?!
Not knowing the genders of these sweet little kitties, I named the black ones Dewey and Cole (it was around Halloween and there was a special "Black Mountain Dew" flavor out, hence "Dewey"). I was convinced the black and white one was a girl, so I named "her" Callie. (After their first vet visit it was confirmed "Callie" was in fact male. So...creative me shortened it to just "Cal") We tried pretty hard in the ensuing weeks to find them homes because my dad still didn't like the idea of keeping any of them. I remember asking all of my friends, telling them we HAD to find them homes. I couldn't see them go to the shelter. I found it kinda funny that EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I asked was either allergic or someone in their family was. All I've got to say to that is...you guys really missed out.
After trying for awhile to find them homes, we of course were attached. At that point I don't think I would have given any of them up had anyone actually decided they could have one.
Fast forward 7 or 8 years to the present. For the last few months Cal's health has been steadily declining. My mom found a lump on his back leg which turned out to be a sarcoma. He'd been losing quite a bit of weight, and was losing mobility in his leg. Most likely due to the size of the tumor and the fact it was probably pinching on nerves, rendering his back left leg pretty useless. He could still drag it around but it was obviously impeding his movement.
My mom decided awhile ago not to put him through chemotherapy. It would have cost thousands of dollars and couldn't guarantee he would get better. We just did everything in our power to make whatever time he had left comfortable and happy.
Last week my mom had noticed that his appetite was decreasing and he was having difficulty going to the bathroom. She made an appointment at the clinic to have him looked over. Upon completing an ultrasound, Dr. Pozzuoli found another mass in his abdomen and the prognosis wasn't good. It was resting close to his vital organs and possibly main arteries.
I was up four-wheeling with Riley and Jared that Saturday as my mom tried to get ahold of me. I wasn't in a place where I had cell phone service. It was a tender mercy that allowed me to understand what I'm sure was the Holy Ghost, telling me we needed to head back down earlier than we had intended. At the time I couldn't understand why I felt that way, but looking back it was such a blessing. We were able to make it down to the clinic where my mom, McKenna, Carter, and J were waiting. We decided that it was in his best interest to put him to sleep. I couldn't see him suffer and decline more.
I sat with everyone in the exam room and got to spend some time with my sweet kitty before he went. I held him in my lap while he got the injection. What a strange, cathartic experience. I believe I was able to visually "see" his spirit leaving his little body. I can't think of a better, more peaceful way to go. Most importantly he was surrounded by his family that LOVED him.
My heart is still broken over the loss of my little buddy. He was always such a good friend and the best listener around. I've always had a connection with animals, but little Mush was definitely one of my best friends. Whether he was drinking the water out of my fishbowl, curling up around my neck when I was trying to sleep, sleeping in the drawers of my dresser whenever I left one open, or kneading his little paws into my body while I pet him.
Every time I think I've cried all the tears I can over this little guy, I start thinking about it and it all starts over again. My eyes have been constant puff balls since Saturday. But I know deep down that we'll see him again. It brings me comfort to know that he's up in heaven with a fully working, perfect body. He's not being bound by physical restraints anymore. He gets to be up there with his sister Cole, Baxter, Jenny, my dad's old dog Bandit, and an army of fish we've had over the years. And I'm sure my great-grandparents, and my Grandma Grose are taking really good care of him :)
I know most people think, "Oh, it's just a cat". But I KNOW that animals will be in heaven. If they're not then I don't want to go. There have been many quotes that have brought me comfort but my mom found one last night that I really, really like. It's from a General Conference address in 1928 by Joseph F. Smith:
"So we see that the Lord intends to save, not only the earth and the heavens, not only man who dwells upon the earth, but all things which he has created. The animals, the fishes of the sea, the fowls of the air, as well as man, are to be recreated, or renewed, through the resurrection, for they too are living souls."
So it's not really goodbye, Mush. It's till we meet again.
