Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Our immediate family was comprised of five humans, one canine, one feline and some fish - until this past week.
The cat of almost 15 years had become very ill.
My husband, the keeper-of-the-cat since it had been his companion long before we were married, made the fateful trip to the veterinarian.
He returned sadly with an empty carrier.
The boys were at school when “Blondie” went to the vet.
Not completely sure of how things might go, we didn’t tell them the cat was going to the doctor.
My husband broke the new to Nick explaining to him that the cat was no longer with us.
Nick wasn’t too heart broken. He was more interested in what the vet had done to “make Blondie dead” and why.
Noah, too, wondered the same things.
“How did the vet kill him?
I flinched, but followed my husbands lead.
“Well, the doctor gave him some medicine that made him go to sleep forever.”
“But when you are asleep you are not dead,” said my observant son.
“Right. While he was sleeping, his heart stopped beating.”
End of discussion.
Later, though, the boys began asking questions about the cat and talking about what had happened.
“He’s with Cat-Jesus now!” said Nick.
“Yeah!” said Noah nodding with enthusiasm.
“There are special rooms in heaven for cats.”
Rather than cry for their lost pet, they continued to talk about what it would be like for Blondie now that he was in heaven.
They were excited for him.
“Heaven is a lot of fun,” said Noah. “It’s just like Kings Island.”
I had to smile.
Envisioning the cat enjoying himself in an amusement park-like type of heaven was far more enjoyable than delving into the details of his unfortunate - but necessary - demise.
Continuing to make the best of sad situation, we gathered up Blondie’s things - extra food, blankets, toys and bowls - and donated them to the animal shelter.
We think Blondie, who had a pretty cushy life, would look down from his special room (or kitty-coaster) in heaven, and approve.
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