Death of a Beloved Pet

Our cat was put down recently. It was a sad time for our family. I have had my cats almost all of their lives and although we don’t feel like our animals are like kids to us, we still love them very much.

Billy Bob was born in December of 2003. I was living in an apartment in my hometown and preparing to move to a trailer one February morning when my ex and I drove past a sign that said “free kittens.” We thought that we would stop by and check to see if they still had one and if they would possibly hold one for a month or so until we moved into the trailer. We stopped in and it turned out to be the house of a woman that I had gone to school with. She had a couple kittens left and we chose a white one with a gray spot on his head that was snuggly. She said she would hold him until we moved!

In April of 2004, Billy Bob moved into our new home. He brought so much joy into my life. A few months later, a coworker of mine called me while I was out shopping. She said her neighbor’s kids were outside with signs for free kittens and that they told her that if they were not gone by the time her mom got home from work, she would take them to the pound. She said that there was an adorable black and white one and that the kids swore the kittens were 6 weeks old. She had convinced me that cats were like potato chips, “you can’t have just one.” Since she was allergic to cats, her boyfriend picked the cat up and kept him in the backyard until I could come get him. He was adorable. I named him Presley at first but a few weeks after getting him changed my mind and called him Elvis.

Elvis was so small that Billy Bob would wrestle him to the ground and cover Elvis’ entire body with his. Two weeks later when we took Elvis to the vet, we found out that he was just 6 weeks old (meaning we got him at about 4 weeks). The two were an inseparable pair.

Both cats have been in my life since then. I moved out of my trailer and left my ex and they moved with me an hour and a half away to start a new life. I moved to a few different apartments and they came with me. I moved in with my now husband and they moved with me. At times they were pains, the throwing up, the peeing outside of the litter box, but they were my cats and I had been with them for so long.

Just recently, Billy Bob had a drastic change in weight. He started vomiting daily and the vomit turned to just clear bile. He stopped eating and drinking and got very thin. My husband was feeding him water by the spoonful and making sure he had some wet food all his own. He started looking better and started eating on his own and drinking more frequently. I had planned to take him to the vet but since he was “my cat,” my husband didn’t want to pay for it originally since he didn’t think anything serious was wrong. But suddenly, he stopped eating again and his eyes started getting “sleep” in them. My husband couldn’t see him like that anymore so we set a vet appointment hoping for the best but expecting the worst.

On February 28^th this year, we had an appointment and that would be the last time that we would see my beautiful cat friend. Although there were no fleas in sight on any of the animals (the 2 cats and our dog who had just gotten her shots and got groomed), the vet thought he might have a disease from fleas. We decided to put him down since the cost of testing and hospitalization would run over $1,000. My husband gave me the choice and said he would pay for whatever (a true act of love since he rarely felt this way about animals and spending money on things of such nature) but I chose to put the poor thing down. I stood there petting his sweet head as the vet shaved his leg finding blood blisters and sores that are uncommon in cats. I kissed his head as she felt for his liver and found a shriveled one that meant he had probably had liver disease for a long time and was fighting. Before I knew it, he was gone, he had taken his last breath.

I ordered a wooden box with cat paws on it for his ashes (again my husband told me whatever I wanted I could have). I ordered a clay paw print stone to commemorate him as well. I cried and my husband offered to take our family for ice cream.

Two days ago, when I took Elvis to the vet to make sure he was okay and checked out. While I was there, I received Billy Bob’s remains (as they called them on the phone). It was a bittersweet moment for me. It was closure, but it was his ashes I was picking up. Thankfully, Elvis is healthy and happy, they saw no reason to worry about him.

As my family and I looked back on Billy Bob’s life, my husband made me a memorial video and said that he too was upset about the loss. He never thought he would be but having spent nine years with the cat as a part of his life, he really had to miss him. We will all remember the loving side (and the not so loving side) of Billy Bob; head kisses, snuggles with our daughter, sleeping in the bathtub, licking plastic bags, climbing in bed with us, the chicken costume that he hated at Halloween. I will not be too sad for his death, but I will rejoice in the time I spent with him and the hole he filled in my heart.