In Loving Memory
Eliot Sanders, the 17-year-old ginger domestic short-hair tabby
cat, passed away of natural causes on Wednesday, June 13, 2018.
The vet had given him a thorough examination on March 6, 2018
(in a home visit, he did no imaging such as X-rays,) and had found nothing
amiss.
The vet was on his way on June 13th to make a
home visit to administer euthanasia, due to pneumonia (it seemed from Eliot's
symptoms and the vet did not gainsay) that had begun six days before and that
was quite severe from four days before. I could certainly see that Eliot had acute pain in his abdomen those four days, because he would no longer let me pet him
there. Once in those four days before his terminal agony, I heard him
moan, such a piteous sound.
In his last 24 hours, except for the five hours when I had
to sleep, Eliot heard my voice continuously. And his last fifteen minutes before
he became unconscious were spent on an excursion to the hallway where he gave
me eight “I love you” winks, and thereafter were eased by aromatherapy—his sniffing
his favorite meal, [baby food, due to his condition] turkey with gravy.
When the vet came on June 13th, approximately two
hours after Eliot had lost consciousness, and found in picking him up that Eliot
had “just [now—read: then]” succumbed, he examined Eliot without having to
worry about pressing so hard as to give pain. He found a large mass in Eliot’s
liver, a smaller mass in his spleen, and small masses disseminated throughout
his abdomen. Clearly, Eliot had passed away from metastasized liver cancer.
The vet assured me that neither of us was to blame for not seeing
what was wrong. Felines have evolved to hide their illnesses assiduously, so as
not to be vulnerable to predators. Furthermore, nothing could have been done to
cure and I had done what there was to do to give palliative care.
I adored Eliot so. I was
concerned often, since I knew how elderly he was, that he wouldn’t be here
someday, and now that someday has come. He will never leave my heart, no more
than Heart my Miniature Poodle and Service Dog ever has. I believe that both of
them are scampering in Heaven and that someday we will be reunited, as they
say, “over the Rainbow Bridge.”
New Life
(As you probably know, I use a wheelchair. Since I live
without a human roommate, and since the elevator doesn’t work or is “on hold” 5%
of the time, and since the street is blocked episodically by construction (over
the course of a five-year project in which we are in the third year,) and since
Paratransit van transportation is quite difficult, I calculate that I am in my
apartment 97% of the time. I have (human) visitors perhaps once/twice a week, and
I see neighbors in the hallway daily.
(But that doesn’t cover me anything like 24/7/365.
Fortunately, I am a great lover of critters. I can and intend to have a companion
animal always with me.)
On July 2, 2018, a friend and I are going by Paratransit to “the
county pound” to adopt a kitten. If male, he’ll be Henry (David Thoreau.) If
female, she’ll be Emily (Dickinson.) G-d willing, he or she may live the normal
kitty lifespan of fifteen to twenty years.
I’m very busy now. I am kitten-proofing
my studio apartment (a complicated endeavor.) I also have to cook and bake for
the freezer sufficiently to be able to avoid having to remove supervision from
the kitten during his or her first month with me. (One cannot rescue a
squirming kitten from a crevice with one’s hands full of kneaded bread dough!)
Summer Vacation
PsychDisABILITIES and Thrift with Flair will resume publication
immediately after Labor Day (the first new posts will be made on September 4,
2018.) Essentially, I am taking a “kitten-guardian leave,” similar to a
maternity leave.
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