Eddie was born at a farm north of where we live. I picked him because he was male and mostly white. Our cat already at home was dark in color. The two boys got along well, except Eddie was more like a person, and he got very lazy just like his brother Henry after an important visit to the vet.
So why am I writing about a cat? There are already so many pet stories everywhere. Eddie didn’t do anything remarkable or save a life. I don’t know of any cat that has saved a life. Eddie was just normal, fur everywhere, afraid to go outside, but he did love yogurt. He also talked a lot. You know what I mean. He meowed but it sounded more human.
Last October, Eddie had a seizure. I knew what people seizures were and had even witnessed one, but poor Eddie just flip-flopped on the floor, so out of control, we just watched in horror until he stopped moving. Then we would clean him up and hold him until he stopped shaking. I hoped this was a one-time occurrence.
It wasn’t. And it got worse.
When we got him to the vet, he had a seizure in the examining room. Afterwards, the doctor held him, ran some tests, and gave him some medicine. We hoped it would work, but the doctor told us to take Eddie to the emergency pet hospital overnight so he could be watched.
“We will do our best,” said the doctor, “but if he has a seizure even with the medicine…well….”
“I know,” I said. “We will have to make a decision.”
At three am, I got a call from the emergency vet. Eddie was still having seizures, no matter what medicine they gave him.
By the time we got to the hospital, Eddie was blind.
The doctor brought him to us, carefully laying him on the table. He was wrapped in a blanket and one of his front paws was wrapped in gauze with an IV. We all looked at each other, and my daughter couldn’t speak. My husband didn’t say anything because Eddie was my cat. I had to do it.
“We have to say goodbye to Eddie,” I said.
The doctor nodded and gave us some time before he returned. We all stroked the little white cat and I spoke into his ear so he would know we were there. It only took moments for the final medicine to stop his heart.
I have his ashes in a wooden box with his name on it. The vet nurse also made a plaster imprint of his paw. When I collected these from the hospital a few days later, my daughter wanted me to put them away. She could not yet look at them.
I was and still am unable to tell Eddie’s story without crying, so if this were a piece of paper, you wouldn’t be able to read it. I have been lucky in life and had never said goodbye to a pet before, and it startled me to feel the grief.
Last Monday, my daughter bought a tiny wooden easel and said she was going to put Eddie’s paw print on it, Yesterday she asked me to write about him. And so I have.
You may not believe me, but Eddie is still in the house. I see him out of the corner of my eye. It could be one of the other cats or Henry. (We adopted two cats that lost their home in hurricane Irma.) But I think it’s Eddie.