the time to sleep is now

I am not right in the head today.

I wasn’t planning on writing about this until later, but I need to get some stuff out so you get a bunch of words to wade through.

I’d also like to apologize in advance if I seem at all .. off today. I am feeling seriously weird – almost stoned – and my thoughts are scattered and sardonic (more so than usual).

Death makes me bitter and cynical, apparently. I was like this after my dad died – in between moments of crushing grief, I was mocking and acerbic; firing off highly inappropriate (yet witty!) observations that shocked people. We all deal with it differently. My method is kind of brittle.

We have an appointment to put Sasha down today. I’m at work for a conference call – a commendable display of dedication in the face of two chickens a year – then I’m going home to spend one last afternoon with her. I will stop at the store and buy a can of tuna, and we will share lunch. She loves tuna.

I don’t want to do this.

I have to do this.

She peed on the floor on Monday night and it was bright pink. Her kidneys are gone. She can hardly walk. She sleeps with her head in her water dish.

I can’t do this.

My insides are throwing up and spilling out my eyes.

I love you so much, Sasha. Fuck you for getting old and sick – you couldn’t wait another 60 years or so? Selfish cat.

She purrs and wants to be petted and yells at me when she’s hungry. She’s fine. We don’t have to do this.

Why can’t she tell me yes or no? I want to do the right thing but I don’t know what that is.

I hate this so much.

Last night I wished she would die in her sleep just so I wouldn’t have to be the one to kill her. I don’t deserve her – I am a terrible person.

I just wish I *knew*. What does she want? Does she think it’s time to go? Or does she have no idea what’s in store?

This is tearing me up. I can’t do this.

Fucking hell.


34 thoughts on “the time to sleep is now

  1. Having gone through the same thing less than two weeks ago, all I can say is stop asking the questions – you will never know the answer. Just spend your last afternoon loving her and just being with her. That’s probably all she wants now anyway.

    The hardest thing is the letting go. But ya know, once I did (while it hurt like a mother), I know I did right by him, just like you have done right by Sasha.

  2. Due to lack of coherent speech/writing abilities at the moment, I respectfully agree with Kris’ words.

    Love her lots, know you’re doing the right thing.


  3. Oh, Kimli, I am so very sad for both you and Sasha. I wish I could give you both big hugs and be with you during this time, in some lame attempt to comfort. I wish you strength and grace and peace. I think your afternoon plans sound like a perfect idea. *BIG HUGS*

  4. Oh honey….this is such a horrible thing to have to decide. You’re not a bad person hoping she’d go in her sleep. I’m sure everyone who has done this has felt that way at some point in the process. You love her and you want what is best for her, and sometimes the best is the worst thing ever to think about. I’m sending vibes your way on this hard day. (((Hugs)))

  5. Hugs to you, Kimli. You are doing the right thing. She will not get any better, and you don’t know if she’s hurting, or how much. It’s never easy, but it is merciful, and I know you want to do right by her. Be strong, make a memory of this afternoon, and let her go in peace.

    I’ll be thinking of you both.

  6. Having done this myself before when my kitty underwent kidney failure, I know what it’s like. It is no easier than losing a family member. But just remember Sasha and take lots of photos of her so you have something to look on later.

  7. i’m so sorry for what you have to do, for what you’ll have to go through and for losing a loved one such as sasha.

    i shall be lining up to give you hugs.

  8. Hugs and tears. I had to do the same thing to my Elvira, who started having seizures when I made it home from work. I hunted down my vet’s home phone number since the office had closed for the evening and he came back just to help us out. I was terrified of doing the wrong thing, but Elvira knew and never went so quietly into her carrier as she did that night. I cried the whole way, and she was the best cat and it felt like she was grateful that we loved her enough to let her go when she really needed to.
    I think Sasha will be the same.

    Brush her beforehand so you can keep some of her fur. I have a tiny box with a few tufts I found on the floor after I had to come home without her. It still smells like her.

  9. When you’re finding yourself wishing they would die (so you don’t have to decide) that is a very big sign that it’s time. You love her, of course you don’t want her to die, but what you’re wishing is that the suffering you are seeing her go through will end. You can end it. You’re doing the right thing.

  10. Entrust in the fact that she will not suffer any longer. She is going to frolic now in fields of catnip, where cans of tuna grow on trees.

    You, Ed Sasha, Cheddar, Hobble and C.Lemon in my thoughts.

  11. Aww Kimli I so know how hard it is, it’s an awful thing to have to do. Take care of you and we’ll be thinking of you…

  12. I think the time is definitely right, very true she won’t be getting any better. You gave her an awesome cat life and even helped her gain quite a bit of internet fame. She was a very cool, crazy, and funny cat, and everyone will miss her (even me when mostly she just yelled at me for being unworthy.. it made the times she was nice seem even better).

  13. Mr. Milk and I are crying for you both, and thinking good thoughts. I hug you sweetie. You are a strong, brave and good cat mom, and she has been as lucky to have you as you are to have had her.

  14. You may not believe this but you’ll eventually be comforted by the fact that you were with Sasha at the end. I’ve had a dog die at home by herself and I regret to this day that I didn’t have the guts to help ease her out of her misery. I waited too long and didn’t get to say goodbye.

    When it was time for my other baby to go, I took her to the vet and I stayed with her to the end. That gives me great comfort now, knowing I was able to do that for her. I know it will be awhile, but I hope youl feel the same way someday.

  15. I know about the wishing they would die in their sleep and take the difficult decision away, that’s how I felt with my Beauregard. Poor Sasha, poor you, such a hard thing to have to do. RIP kitty.

  16. It’s definitely a difficult decision — we had to make it for my yellow lab, Caleb, a few months back. Hugs for you.

  17. When I ‘helped’ one of my dogs die, I was stunned by the pain. I remember being surprised that I cried more than I did when my brother died. Then it occurred to me; hell, I didn’t sleep with my brother. Ginn-Ginn and I spent every day together. She’s trying to go, and you’re helping her. You’ve done a good job.

  18. I held our old dog while they injected him and told him how much I loved him as he died. Then I drove him home, dug a grave under a big oak tree in the yard and buried him. Then, through my tears, I said to my daughter “Damnit, I told you fourteen years ago that I didn’t want a dog”. Next time somebody else can be the ‘strong one’. I jurt for you.

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