Bye, Cat
Our cat Molly died 12/2. She'd been sick for a quite a few months, with what we determined was cancer. We were going to put her down once she fell too ill to get around or eat. Tuesday evening she was up and about and eating, and she seemed okay in the morning for the little I saw her before heading to work.
When I came home, I was talking to my sister Joann on the phone when I found Molly. She was just inside the door. I explain to Joann I had to go because Molly died.
When an animal ( or anyone for that matter) who has been sick with a terminal illness dies, I feel a conflicted group of emotions. In a lot of ways, I had already accepted that she was going to die, and I am glad it didn't appear that she suffered long when the end came.
She was a weird cat. She liked to head-butt people, and she wagged her tail like a dog. She also appeared to be far-sighted and wasn't very good at retracting her claws. she'd walk on carpet and almost trip when her claws got stuck. She was a weird cat.
I called my mom to let her know, and review directions for pet burial (It's nice having a mom who worked in a vet's office for close to 20 years) and she recommended that I wait until Meg got home in case she wanted to look at Molly before I buried her.
I went out and started to dig the grave. Well, started to find a shovel. Which we don't have, because they are at the river house still. I did find a trowel. Using the tools at hand, I got to work.
I've never been one for funerals. I'm not sure why. I prefer to do my grieving in private. I do have to say, digging a grave sure felt like a good way to grieve. I have had pets die before, but my father has always done the grave digging– Wait, that's not true. I had to bury a chicken once. She was a very old chicken, so I'm not sure if my lack of emotional response was because she was a farm animal, and not a pet, or just because she was old.
I finished the grave just before Meg got home, and broke the news to her. Meg was a lot more upset than me, so I held her for a while. She decided she'd like to look at Molly one last time before I buried her. I then wrapped Molly up and proceeded to bury her.
Talk about finality. I've seen at human funerals people putting a shovelful of dirt on the coffin. I never really understood it before. It had a lot more meaning for me when I was moving all the dirt. It really nails home that idea of dust to dust. On a complete aside, I used to think that phrase was "dusk to dusk" and I couldn't understand what a full 24 hours had to do with it. stop laughing, I was 5. how many 5 year olds know the word dusk?
I've had this post hanging around in my draft piles since the day Molly died, and I have been slowly adding to it. This whole experience has made me think about death a lot more than I have in a few years, and I may revisit the whole topic of funeral and grieving in a more general sense later. I have a lot to think about on the subject.