Monday was a tough day for my wife and I. We brought our fourteen-year-old cat, Gina, to the vet’s office. They gave her a shot to relax, and then after a last few minutes for us to pet her and show our love for her, they gave her a medication that ended her life. She passed quickly and peacefully as I petted her.
It was tough being there, knowing that we were saying goodbye to her. I was thankful that she wasn’t suffering anymore, but we were suffering emotionally. We were crying most of the time we were there.
There was no question that she was feeling bad. She’d been declining for a couple of months. She had lost so much weight that she was skin and bones, and she had stopped all her normal behaviors, including using the litter box. For the last week, she spent most of the day and night hiding in a dark hole in my closet, barely moving.
I miss her and still look for her to show up in the ways that she usually did. She’s left a big hole of love in my heart, and I know I’ll continue to miss her.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the brevity of life and the fact that, at some point, everything we know and love will be gone, including ourselves. My thinking is influenced by my study of Stoic philosophy and my advancing age. I’ve been forced to face the fact that I have limited time left to live.
Just last month, I wrote a blog post about doing things for the last time. Yesterday, my wife and I talked about times when we did some activity with Gina that was the last time. Of course, we didn’t realize at the time it was for the last time. If we understood that then, I’m sure we would have lived more in the moment and enjoyed our connection with her more.
The death of one of our cats has made us appreciate more the time we have left with our other two cats. We’re both spending more time giving them the attention and love they desire and trying to enjoy our interactions fully in the moment.
“Thus, Epictetus counsels that when we say good-bye to a friend, we should silently remind ourselves that this might be our final parting. If we do this, we will be less likely to take our friends for granted, and as a result, we will probably derive far more pleasure from friendships than we otherwise would.”
William B. Irvine, A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy
I want this sad episode to help me not take the things and people I care about for granted. This includes my relationships with our other cats, my wife, family, and friends. The realization that all of them will, at some point, die, as will I, gives me a heightened sense of value and appreciation for each of them.