Life
has not been kind to me lately. It’s bad
enough hitting 44 years of age and having nothing to show for all of life’s ups
and downs but whatever runs the Universe thought that I needed an extra kick in
the teeth.
Just
six days after my birthday my beloved cat, Merlin, had to be put to sleep. I knew he only had a short time left but I
was given an estimate of between a year and two years back in January when he
was having his annual booster shots. He
had not been well for about two weeks before his departure but I thought that
he’d pull through like he always seemed to.
Merlin was, if nothing else, a fighter.
This time was different.
On the
day he died, I realised that Merlin’s time on this Earth was almost up and I
called the vet to arrange the home visit for the following Monday (8 June). I spent the day cuddled up with my friend and
companion and this was to be the way things were going to be until he was to
leave me, going on a journey that I could not follow him on although I wished I
could have.
Merlin,
however, seemed to have other plans, taking a turn for the worst at about 2pm
that Friday afternoon. We had been
curled up on the sofa, keeping each other warm, when Merlin fell onto the floor
(or that’s what I assume as we had both been asleep). He staggered towards the kitchen, heading for
his litter tray and could barely walk in a straight line. He hadn’t had much to drink and he’d not been
eating too well as he was having trouble with constipation. After a reasonable amount of time to allow
him to carry out his natural functions I became worried when he hadn’t
returned. I found him still in the
litter tray having just headed straight in and, rather than turning around and
pooping at the rear of the tray, just pooped as he entered and then collapsed.
He laid
there for about two hours and I knew that Merlin had finally given up trying to
fight his failing kidneys and other ailments.
I had planned to give Merlin the best weekend of his life and we were
robbed of that as I felt I had no choice but to bring forward the tragic event.
I
brought Merlin to my sofa and we sat together, tears filling my eyes as I could
literally see my beloved companion fading before me. I was in such a state that I had to keep
leaving the room because it was too upsetting for me but I kept returning as I
knew I wouldn’t have much more time with him.
The
wait for the vet’s visit was torturously long as he was delayed and I was in emotional
agony looking at Merlin and knowing he would soon be gone from my life
forever. I started to act in a way that
some people might find strange, reading him the poem I wrote about him and
telling him how little life would mean to me without him. I just had to get out all the things I would
have regretted not saying in the same way you would tell a relative. It seemed fitting to do so as I have always
regarded and will always regard Merlin as my son (however weird and un-masculine
that might sound). I tried to put a
brave face on it but failed miserably, bursting into tears every few minutes as
the time slowly approached.
Merlin
had started breathing in a strained manner by the time the vet arrived and we
took very little time getting down to the sad business of snuffing out the
light that was my beloved son.
I had
always promised Merlin that when he felt it was time to go that I would be
there with him, a promise that I made my Grandma but was unable to keep. I held Merlin in my arms as the vet injected
the fatal concoction and I felt him go limp within seconds. Merlin was gone and there would never be
another being in my life who could be such a beacon of light in the darkness.
I asked
the vet if he’d brought enough of the drug to send me on the same journey,
bawling my eyes out. I knew he’d say no
but I was so hoping he’d have said yes and left me enough to do the job.
I
placed Merlin’s lifeless body in the blanket the vet had bought, covering him
up and placing him in the pet carrier.
The vet left carrying my furry companion back to his surgery and the
even longer wait for Merlin’s ashes to come home began.
I
couldn’t sleep that night as I was too afraid of having any dreams of Merlin
that stirred up feelings of guilt for having been the one to order his
termination. This must come as the
greatest irony, me being an advocate of euthanasia and assisted suicide and
actually wanting someone to help me die but the distinction I can separate the
cases with is that Merlin could not make his wishes known and so I could have been
acting against what he would have wanted, despite having done what I thought
was right.
For
days I had trouble sleeping so much so that my disturbed sleeping pattern
caused by my depression looked much more normal than what it was now. I couldn’t face eating meals so I just had
small snacks when the hunger became too much to ignore. I could barely keep my mind occupied enough
to stop thoughts of Merlin’s absence from my mind and it has been that way
since.
I have
fallen into my self-soothing but ultimately self-harming behaviour of
purchasing DVDs every time I go out to try and distract myself with
entertainments that I can’t even concentrate on to fill the void left by my
companion.
I’ve
had to give up my voluntary work for the time being as I’d be of no help to
anyone in my current state and, although my eating pattern has returned to some
semblance of normality, my sleep pattern is still so disturbed that I wonder if
it’ll ever be normal again.
The
worst thing is that I can’t even remember what Merlin looked like without
looking at a photograph of him but, every so often, I will get a flash of
memory of the moment the life left his body and I lost my beloved companion,
bringing back all the pain.
I
picked up Merlin’s ashes last Sunday (21 June).
I thought that having them would make me feel better but I’m not sure
that it’s worked out that way. Nothing
can replace the feel of Merlin’s fur against my leg or the joy of being able to
stroke him behind the ear. Nothing can
replace the acceptance I felt from him or the calming sensation I got whenever
I held him when I was at my lowest ebb.
The
light has gone out of my life and I’m simply waiting to join my son wherever he
may be.
