The Long Road Home

This weekend didn't exactly go as planned. Earlier in the week I took my new beau Alfonso to the vet to get his balls trimmed and got some bad news.

I'm a bit low on stray-cat funds, and seeing as the Fonz was a week away from living outdoors in the snow I decided to take him to a cash-only low-cost spay and neuter clinic called "A snip in Time." Cute huh? Its this tiny, cramped, smelly two room clinic - which could be somewhat off-putting if you are used to the bright, cheery and sterile, environment of vets who cater to more pampered pets. But I decided to have a look and at least talk to the doc. The vet was a husky bearded fellow who looks a bit like Grizzly Adams, and as it turns out, is no less committed to saving the broken and discarded domestic cats of our city than would be St. Francis of Asisi himself.

He took one look at Alfonso and broke the bad news.

" I don't think we should do the surgery today."
"What's wrong?"
"Have you had him tested for FeLV and FIV?"
"No, he has seemed really healthy - hea eats, uses the litter box - is active ... do you think he is sick?"
He lifted Fonz's upper lip.
"Do you see how pale his gums are?" I nodded - they were really quite white. I had never looked at them before.
"That's a sign of Feline Leukemia." He shook his head. "I'll do the surgery if you want, but I'm out of test kits - and I don't think it's a good idea to do it until you know whether or not he's positive."

I looked down at the brave little fonz sadly. "If you're positive buddy I can't keep you - you'll infect my other cats." I was disappointed this might be the case, but until this point he had seemed normal and healthy, and I new some FeLV positive cats live long happy lives - there might still be a home for him where Leukemia was OK. I took him home and agreed that I would take him to another vet and have him tested.

And then, as if the vet had predicted it, everything changed. That night Fonz ate very little. The next day it was freezing cold outside and I felt bad putting him out all day while I was at work so I left him inside. He didn't eat all day. When I came home, he was lying in my closet, where it's cool and he didn't want to come out. I tried to feed him, but he wouldn't take any food or water. Eventually he used the litter box and-- unsteady on his feet-- wobbled to a comfy spot under my bed and wouldn't come out. He was still in the same spot friday morning, and Friday night when I got home from work. I knew something was very wrong.

So first thing Saturday morning I took him to the other vet for a test. This time it was the clean, bright cheery vet filled with cats and dogs, and new puppies there for their shots. I wrapped Fonzie in a blue towel and held him in my arms - he let me drive him the 20 blocks to the clinic with him in my arms like that while he looked out the window -- resting his little chin on my upper arm. His only real protest was a hiss and claw in my chest when he saw the dogs in the waiting room, but he looked up at me, eyes full of trust that I would make him better, and gave in without any real struggle. He knew I wouldn't let him fend for himself against the dogs. It's amazing how much a sick animal will trust you. It almost broke my heart.

Especially since even though I had hoped for the best, I already knew what the result would be - I could see it in the vet's eyes when she examined him. She had seen this before. When she came back and gave me the bad news I started to cry. She told me he wouldn't get better and this was the end for him - it happens fast she said. She recommended I put him down and, reluctantly, I agreed. I knew he was suffering and I wanted to ease his pain- but the idea that this was it, that we were going to say goodbye - well it was hard to accept. I hadn't realized how quickly I had gotten attached.

I had just gotten used to having the little guy around. He used to hang out on the neighbors porch and wait for me to come home. When he saw me pull up outside, he would come running and meowing. Begging to come inside and eat and snuggle. One time he even tried to climb inside my car when I was leaving - as if to ask me to take him with me - wherever it was I was going. I suppose it had to be better than being cold and hungry on the street right? I got a kick out of his devotion to me and had begun to enjoy seeing him. On nights when he didn't show up I found myself peeking out the window after him, wondering if he had found shelter elsewhere, or another sugar momma to fill his belly and scratch his ears. I really liked the little devil and sorta figured we were gonna be buddies for some time to come.

But there he was, with those big frightened eyes, looking up at me hoping I was going to make it all right, and I knew it was far from all right.

We had a few minutes alone together in the hallway while the doctor readied the room. I stroked his back and told him he had been a good cat, and that I was sorry it didn't work out. I cried and hugged his little body to my chest while he rested his tired head in the crook of my arm. I think he knew he wasn't going home to his spot under the bed.

I rubbed the back of his neck as the doctor gave the injection, and in seconds his little life was over. One minute he was giving a meow of protest at the pinch of the needle and the next the spark in his eyes had disappeared. Such a sweet, affectionate cat. The tears were rolling down my cheeks - life was really unfair. I only hope his last few weeks were filled with enough warm places to nap, meals of good food, petting and chin scratches to offset what must have been a hard early life. I take some comfort that instead of dying alone in the cold, he could look up at me and know that someone had cared for him. I hope he knew that he has been loved - even if it was for a brief time.

I paid and drove over to to see my husband. He had met Alfonso a few times and liked him too. - when I told him what happened tears welled up in his eyes and began rolling down his cheeks too. I knew he was thinking of our dogs and how he would feel if one day we have to put them down.

"I had really started to get used to him," he said. "Me too," I sniffed.

He was just that sort of cat. He just made himself right at home in your life and before you knew it you were in love with him. One more man who made me fall in love with him and left me in tears.

This really has to stop.