I stood in my kitchen this past Saturday morning, stirring my coffee and wondering where does one start when packing up 20 + years of life and memories?
It was early, before 7 a.m. and as I looked down at the floor, I saw the shadow of Max walk by…even the shadow of his tail looked fluffy. “Hi buddy,” I said…and then I remembered.
I smiled, something that I had not done for several days.
You see, Max died on Saturday, January 2nd, between 4 and 6 am.
Max stumbled when he walked in the door after sitting outside on the patio the morning of the 29th of December. My husband and I exchanged worried looks of concern and immediately drove to the vet; Max was put on an IV, the vet felt a mass in Max’s belly that his technician was going to try and “tap” to determine what it was.
Wednesday, the vet called to tell us that Max had cancer. Our doctor wanted to know if we wanted to take Max home and spend some more time with him.
Of course we did. The first evening, Max ate a little bit and even sat on Sam’s Bakugan game board and tried to look interested in what Sam was saying. Max tapped one of the balls with a paw.
After that he slowed down more each day; he stopped eating and drinking. I started using an eye dropper to give him sips of water.
(When Max first arrived home with Hubby nearly 14 years ago, I had to feed Max with an eye dropper because he was so young, he still should have been nursing.)
We prepared Sam for the fact that Max was not going to get better. We all took turns holding Max and keeping him warm. At night, I slept on the couch and kept my hand on him to make sure he knew I was there.
By New Year’s Day, it was evident that we would be going to the vet’s office the next morning so that a shot could be administered. The vet had assured us that Max was not in pain, but that death would not come without assistance. By the evening of January 1st, Max could no longer walk, so I would change the thick towel we kept under him, since he could not get up to use the kitty box.
Late that evening, he began to whimper every few minutes. Finally sometime before 2 am, I was able to get him comfortable. With my head pounding with a migraine, I gave him a kiss, told him we all loved him and I went to lay down in bed for awhile.
At four in the morning, I went to check on him. He was warm and he moved one of his cute little paws when I stroked his fur. At 6:30 a.m. he was gone.