After fourteen months of fighting hyperthyroidism, Gracie
died peacefully overnight. The last several days were difficult. It was obvious
that she had lost the battle; but true to form, Gracie wasn’t going to go
quietly. Emaciated and wobbly on her feet, Gracie nonetheless continued to sit
at the back door waiting to be let out. I was afraid that once free from my supervision,
Gracie would wander back into the woods, never to be seen again.
I finally gave in to her on Thursday evening. It was a comfortable
night and I was in the mood to light a bonfire in the fire ring. While I stoked the fire, Gracie wandered from one
favorite spot to another: the wood wall next to the water dish where a family
of chipmunks has one of their ground entrances, the flower bed where she could
stretch out on the cool grass and next to the house in the sand. We stayed
outside for almost two hours until the mosquitoes got the best of me. As for
Gracie, she would have preferred to remain outside. The mosquitoes never
bothered her.
I knew that Friday was going to be her last day when I found
Gracie lying on the kitchen floor. The other cats had come into the room in
anticipation of breakfast and paced around the kitchen floor. Gracie lay
silently, despite the activity around her. I picked her off the ground and
placed her on the counter, lying on a small dish towel. She refused her
breakfast of canned food. By this point, Gracie’s only movements were a gentle
stretch of her front legs and an occasional lifting of her head. Eddie, never
an affectionate cat, sat beside her on the counter. As she sat there, Gracie
placed her front paw between Eddie’s front legs. Eddie leaned over and gave her
a quick bath with her tongue. Satisfied with her work, Eddie laid down next to
Gracie and the two girls slept for a time.
By this time, I was a blubbering mess. I have seen enough
dying animals to know that Gracie’s time was short. Although her body was cool
to the touch, Gracie’s heart was beating regular and strong. For long periods
of time, she would lie still. Then suddenly she would stand up and walk across
the room. Was I being hasty in my judgment? The walks would exhaust her and once
again, she would lie silently staring off into space. As the day unfolded and Gracie’s body
weakened, she would now struggle to stand up. Her back legs could no longer
hold up her body. One step and she would fall on to her side. The scene became
unbearable to watch and I decided for her safety that I would have her sleep in
the large indoor dog pen where she could not make her nightly trip down the
basement stairs to her sleeping place on the old lawn chair.
I held Gracie on my chest until bed time. She was restless
trying to find a comfortable position had become difficult. I carried her to
the bed that I created in the cage and stroked her body. By now, there was no
purr left in her. I kissed her on the head and wished her a good night. As I climbed
into bed, I realized that it was likely that Gracie would not be alive when I
came downstairs the next morning. By this time, I had no more tears left and calm
came over me. There comes a time when the body loses its ability to adequately
house the soul. Gracie’s body was at the end of its usefulness but Gracie’s
spirit would move on to a better place.
As expected, Gracie died during the night. Her body was
cold to the touch and rigid. The disease had caused her fur to mat in ugly big
clumps. My last gift to her was to gently brush away all those knots, leaving
her fur as silky as the day she first arrived at my door. I wrapped her up in a
fleece blanket that she would be buried in.
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| Gracie and Lucy dining in the backyard |
Gracie and I had a contentious relationship. She had
moved in one winter day, ears badly infected, abandoned by someone in the
neighborhood. Gracie battled with my other cats, demanded constantly to be
allowed outside and when told no, she would back up to a piece of furniture and
spray. Gracie taught me about cat bite abscesses from her numerous fights, once
chased a young Gabriel up a tree and terrorized Mama Kitty until Mama ran away
for an entire summer. She was a horror in the house, but once outside, Gracie
was gentle and sweet. She accompanied me down the driveway each morning to
pick up the newspaper. As I walked back to the house, she would absorb herself
with the various smells left at the end of the drive. With one whistle from me,
Gracie would stop what she was doing and race back up the drive and walked with
me into the house for breakfast. As the years passed, she became Lucy’s outdoor
guardian. One summer day as a neighbor dog came charging into the yard, scaring
a deaf Lucy, Gracie took off after the dog. Now on this final day, the role of guardian
was reversed. As Gracie laid quietly, Lucy sat close by, watching her friend.
Today, the house is a little quieter. The remaining ten
cats congregated together in the family room, as if to mourn in community.
There was no fighting, no stealing of favorite spots, no demands for food.
Today, they lost one of their own. Peace reigned.
