Jul. 16, 2003 ~ Good-bye to a friend
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Misha
1986 -- 2003
His years with us were good ones, and we will miss him. Last night and this
morning, all bets were off. Whatever he wanted, he got. Half a can of tuna,
unlimited canned cheese, turkey. We all had long talks with him, fondly recalled
happier days, and said our good-byes. During the night, as usual, he slept by
my feet. And just like always, I rubbed my foot against him, knowing it would
be the last time.
In the end, he was but a shadow of his former self. Once-glossy fur was thin and brittle. Shiny eyes had dimmed, and he was so very frail. Susan listened to his heart and cried out in dismay. She held out the stethoscope for me to listen, but I just shook my head, knowing that I would hear only the pounding in my own ears. Susan, who normally offers heroic measures even in the worst of circumstances, said that there were only two choices. One was to wait, and his heart would fail soon. Or let him go now. We had already made our decision.
He went quickly, as I stroked his fur. Husband had already prepared a spot for him, and Susan helped with the last details.
We tried to make this farewell as gentle as possible. I am grateful for Susan's help and comfort, and for the support of an online friend who has been down this path too many times before.
This might sound a little strange, but it's almost as if Misha was waiting for Soldier Boy to return, safe and sound, before he could go. Almost as if he was saying, "I will be here for you, until our boy comes home."
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