Just When You Think All is Swell

So I am excited, you know first half marathon coming up in two days, and everything.  Been training for several months.....now seeing my efforts come to fruition.  Wow...I finally get one of those 13.1 stickers for the back of my car!
Positive vibes flowing, visualizing the finish...me sprinting to the end, meeting my goal.  No wait!  Me exceeding my goal by five minutes,  my running posse and family members cheering for me and all. The flash of the finish line photographers...my first finisher's medal placed around the neck....The only thing I had bugging me was..."what was I going to wear for my first race?"

Then reality comes to punch me right in the gut.  This is going to be a lengthy post.

My sweet beloved cat that I rescued from the animal shelter in 1998, before kids, husband and the two dogs I now own, is dying.  That is a smack in the shins no doubt and it put a screeching halt to any quality training runs this week and some of last.  My heart was not in it because it was getting broken.

Hootie was the older cat in the cold cage hidden in the corner of the gray colored hallway that people walk by to get to the sweet little cutie patootie kittens that are up for adoption in the bright yellow happy kitty room.  How can you not love little kitties?  They are so cute and frisky, and want to play ALL THE TIME!  You can hear a series of "oohs and awwww's" in a loop stream coming from that room.  Now how do you suppose an older cat could compete with THAT?  I was drawn to his eyes as I walked right past his cage, to do as the other twenty people had previously done that day. (I too, had my eyes on a cute little 3-month-old black kitten).  But sweet ol' Hootie, well, he had my number.  I could not stop staring at his sweet chunky face (he weighed all of 24 lbs. then), or how he actually stuck his paw out of the cage and grabbed a hold of my t-shirt as I closely had  to walk by his cage again to go sign the adoption papers for the previously mentioned black kitten.  "Whooaa, I am caught, I am caught!" But I had no idea, yet.

I asked the shelter volunteer helping me, "What's his story?" The saintly volunteer (they are saints, you know) said, "Oooh, him?  Ugh, so sad, he is such a sweet cat, about 2-4 years old, according to his previous owners, I just do not know why he hasn't been snatched up yet, we love him, just a shame!"  Then came the story, while I was extracting his last claw from my t-shirt, about how he has been there for two whole months, that he was too darn sweet to put down and the workers and volunteers just love him but cannot take in one more animal (which is why I could not volunteer or work at an animal shelter because I WOULD BE THAT CRAZY CAT LADY in that show "Hoarders").  But "that dead cat walking" final day was coming because he had been there too long and the pound was getting full of kittens.  Also adding that his previous owners gave him up because "he was too much work."  Gee, seriously? "Too much work...come on, really?!"  I mean, dang, cats are about the easiest pets to own other than a beta fish. They do not need to be walked, they are pretty darn independent animals who bathe themselves.  Just fresh food and water, a quick scoop of the liter box, and a free lap for them to perch and purr on their time, not yours, one yearly visit to the vet and viola!  The McLazy's dropped off their cat at the pound, yet I am surprise they summed up enough energy to get up from the couch and drive him there.  How can you maintain a serious face when they ask you "why are you surrendering your animal?"  Ummm because I am a freaking lazy POS?!  Boy, did they give up a tremendous animal.  Thank God for me!

I left with Hootie instead.  And what about the other black kitty? Well he found another home a few minutes after the "pending adoption" sign was removed.  I would say Hootie adopted me.

Wow, what great 13 1/2 years!  Hootie was the BEST companion EVER! He gave me so, so, so much more than I ever gave him.  Somehow, he just knew how to lift my spirits. He was an old soul.  He was right there when I was down and just kept me company when I was on the computer or watching T.V.  One time, during one of my crying sessions for some bad day of work, he kept pawing at each tear that streamed my face.  No claws, just the soft, warm pink pads of his paws gently wiping each tear as they rolled down my cheek.  Bad day gone.  He was always by the door when we arrived home.  No soon we walked through the door and he would roll completely over to expose his underbelly just begging for those special belly rubs we always greeted him with.  EVERYDAY.  A full 10 - 15 minutes of pure belly rubbing ecstasy.
It was just the three of us then.  We even sent him a postcard when we were away on our honeymoon. Silly, I know.  Soon after, life for Hootie changed.  Even though he openly welcomed little human number 1 and little human number 2, he was okay in taking the back seat.  There were more of us to love on him.  Screaming kids, tail pulling, he took it all in stride.  This was his family and he loved us so.  There was even a present under the tree for him every Christmas.  I would have to say, he was not thrilled at first when we rescued our first pooch, but took to him quickly, and just sighed and did a cat eye roll, when rescued pooch number 2 came drooling in.  But as independent as cats are, they can easily be forgotten at times and pushed aside because daily life for me got busier and busier.  The long belly rubs became quick little pets, if any, and I did not sit long enough anymore to give him a chance to jump and curl up on my lap.  We did continue to sleep together.  Because how else can he torment me at 4:30 a.m. when he wanted to be fed?  "Yo ma! I am hungry!" Loud bellows from a 20+lb cat, echoing through the dark wee morning hours and knocking crap off my nightstand until I say, "I'm UP, Hoots, I am up!"

So here we are.  Several visits to the vet, strange symptoms not typical for cat like diseases. Many tests with mixed results.  Still purring, still looking like himself from the waist up, but cannot seem to make his now swollen hind legs work.  He is slowly slipping away,  I can feel it - I can see it.  Now I know it.  Cancer. Confirmed this past Tuesday.  I had three options: euthanize him right there, do extensive surgery that requires major recuperation just to prolong his life for another mere 4-9 months, and revisit this pain again, or bring him home on heavy doses of pain meds and steroids so we can make him comfortable while we say our final goodbyes - to then bring him back one last time when we get the "sign" that he is ready.  I was told you will know when it is time and I refuse to make him suffer because of any selfishness on my part - because I want him here longer.  Because I love him, I chose the latter.   Mainly because I was given this opportunity to say bye and spend just a tiny bit more time with him while he is comfortable and purring.  Further, my son's birthday is also today and I did not want him to associate this loss on his birthday, it would be too hard for a 9 year old to bear. Telling my kids to thank God for blessing our lives with this angel in cat form and reminding them to enjoy his remaining time with us was so emotionally difficult.  I have not cried this hard in such a long time.  I am drained.  It breaks my heart to write this, because watching your kids hurt and ache along side you is so terribly difficult - but I certainly hope it is a lesson on life and why you need to enjoy each day with gusto.

I love you HOOTIE!  I will be with you to the very end, holding you until your very last breath, until your last purr - I owe you that.  I am dedicating my 13.1 miles on Sunday to you.  Just you.  For all you did for me, for us and for allowing me to love you for these past 13 1/2 years.  Here's to allowing one final, long belly rub.  I am going to miss you so much.