Orca Bear

9 months

2008-08-25T15:37:00.002-04:00

In a few days it will have been 9 months since Orca died. I really miss him. Whenever I see a kitty I get an overwhelming feeling of happiness and warmth with a twinge of deep sorrow. Orca was such a special being. Such a sweet loving soul. But I wasn't always kind and loving to him. There were lots of times I was good to him and other times I was so self-absorbed I neglected him. I wish I could say that was many years ago, but it wasn't. When I see another cat I can't help wonder if they know where Orca is and if they can somehow send him a message. Tell him I'm sorry for everything. Tell him he taught me what love is and that I hope someday I have the chance to make amends by having another pet and never ever forgetting they depend on me for care. Tell him I miss feeling his breaths get deeper as he's falling asleep. And that when I see a sunny, wood place I think of how much he would love it there. I'll always love you sweet Orca.

Obesity and Diabetes in Cats: The Diet Link

2008-01-04T12:25:00.000-05:00

Orca had diabetes. This most likely developed from years of obesity and what I now know was a lousy diet: Iams Less Active for Cats. The big problem is that most dry cat food does not contain ingredients that work with a cat's digestive system. The ingredients found in most commerical dry cat food cannot be metabolized by a cat's digestive system because they are obligatory carnivores. To learn more about this, check out this article:

Feline Diabetes and Obesity: The Preventable Epidemics by Elizabeth Hodgkins DVM, Esq.:

Night Awakenings

2008-01-03T23:08:00.000-05:00

For the last fifteen and a half years (with the exception of a few months here and there) Orca and I slept in the same bed. Whether that bed was a mattress on the floor or a futon, or the bed was on risers or a frame, almost every night when I was home Orca was there snuggled up to me at night. Well, that is until he woke me up. Which happened every night we slept together.

Later on in life he woke me up because he really did need something. But most of the time he didn't need a thing. He was bored and wanted me to be up or awake with him. Or he thought it was a fun way to play a game. I didn't really find the humor in the game, but I certainly appreciated the psychological subtlety of his strategy.

Orca knew I was a light sleeper. And he took advantage of that. He knew what would wake me and what would get me out of my warm comfortable bed.

First he would start with a light scratch on a dresser, or perhaps the back side of the door. Just one paw gently dragging on the hard surface. Maybe he'd make two or three scratches at first. Then he would wait and try again in a few minutes. This would wake me up, but I wouldn't react in hopes he would go back to bed.

If the light pawing at the dresser didn't work, he would find a paper or plastic bag and paw at that, upping the noise and annoyance factor ever so slightly. By this time I was usually groaning from my pillow, "Orca...what is it bear....go back to sleep...." Now he had me. 'Aha! She's awake...' He would try a few more times with the bag and then move on to dragging something off of a table or tearing paper. That almost always got me out of the bed.

Then he would go for the mattress. Just above my head he would dig his claws into the mattress and pluck. Most of the time his long claws would get stuck and I would have to get up and gently remove his claws so he wouldn't hurt himself. Mission accomplished, mom is awake.

On rare occassions Orca pulled out the big dog. The 'I'm determined to wake my mom up and I don't care how mad she's going to get' dog. After exausting all previous efforts to wake me from my restful slumber, Orca would find a painting to scratch. The sound of cat claws on a canvas painted with acrylics is like a fire alarm to my brain. I would be up instantly and Orca would be off somewhere hiding, knowing my spray bottle of water and I were in pursuit.

Once he got sick that all changed. He still woke me up but for different reasons. It was usually because he had thrown up or wanted some dry food or more water. Sometimes he would wake me when he was not feeling well and couldn't get up on the bed by himself. He stopped scratching paintings all together. I no longer got angry. I knew it might be something serious so I resisted less. We had reached a place of mutual understanding.

Now that he is gone, I still wake up. I'm waiting to hear the scratching or the rustling of a plastic bag. Or the claws in the mattress by my head. But it's quiet. Despite all the times he annoyed me or woke me up 15 minutes before my alarm went off in the morning, I miss those night awakenings. To be loved so much that he just wanted me up, or that he knew I could help him amd would, or that he cared so much he got mad at me and tried to get even in the middle of the night if I had neglected him that day. The middle of the night is when I miss him the most. If he were here right now, if he woke me up tonight, I would sweep him up in my arms and rock him back and forth, and sing to him and hold him, and look into those big green eyes and tell him I love him.

Car rides with Orca

2008-01-01T15:17:00.000-05:00

Orca loved to go for rides in the car when he was little. It was something I started to do to get him used to driving in the car but I quickly learned he loved it. When I lived in Flagstaff we used to take this drive out Lake Mary Road which at the time was mostly wilderness.

I would crack the window on the driver's side and Orca would stand with his two legs on my left leg and put his two front paws on the door. I would put my left hand on his belly to help steady him. Then he would stick his furry head out the crack in the window and take in the fresh air. Just like a dog.

He would stand like that for minutes on end. Every few minutes he would bring his head back in and look at me as if to say, "Mom, this is awesome!" If he got tired he would crawl into the floor of the car and take a nap, or lay in my lap. The whirling sound of the air through the window didn't scare him a bit. He was a lover of nature and any way he could get some fresh air he would take it.

Later in his life car rides were associated with trips to the vet. Especially after I moved to DC and didn't have my own car anymore. On his last trip to the vet he sat very still in his Sherpa carrier and only cried once. He was so sick. As I looked over at him I remembered how much he loved that Lake Mary Drive. I didn't know it would be his last car ride.

Grief and Pet Loss Resources

2008-01-01T14:41:00.001-05:00

After my middle of the night grief attack last night I realized now was not the time to back away from support and resources for grief. So as I am finding these resources I'm going to add them here. If you have other resources, please add them as a comment.

Resource Web sites and links pages

Pet Loss Support: Links and Hotlines: http://www.pet-loss.net/links.html

Argus Institute Grief Resources for Famlies with Pets: http://www.argusinstitute.colostate.edu/famtoc.htm

Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement: http://www.aplb.org/

Pet Support: http://www.petsupport.net/

365 day support chats: http://chat.pethobbyist.com/schedule.php?site=loss

Articles

Ten Tips on Coping With Pet Loss by Moira Anderson Allen, M.Ed.: http://www.pet-loss.net/

Workshops and Support Groups

Support resources and groups in the DC area: http://www.heavenlydays.com/Support.aspx

Rainbow Bridge forum and chat (very active as of Jan. 1, 2007:) http://www.rainbowsbridge.com/Grief_Support_Center/Grief_Support_Home.htm

Legacies of Love: A Gentle Guide to Healing from the Loss of Your Animal Loved One. 6 week teleclass beginning May 13, 2008. Tuesday nights 9pm-11pm EST: http://animalspiritnetwork.com/classes/grief/GS103/

Monday Candle Ceremony: http://www.griefonline.com/candleceremony.htm

Poems

A POEM FOR THE GRIEVING...

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die...

-Anonymous

THANK YOU TO MY BRIDGE KID

You brought me to this beautiful place
Where I don’t have to hide my face,
Or turn away as I start to cry,
Or act as if you didn’t die.

This beautiful place called Rainbows Bridge
Where we share stories of our kids.
Where each and every person knows
That in deep sorrow, friendship grows.

We share our laughs, we share our pain,
We come back here in sun and rain.
We start to heal, we learn to grow,
And all because of the love we’ve known.

We learn to live our lives again,
To love, to welcome others in.
To let them come into our hearts
Our homes, our souls, our deepest parts.

You live forever, your legacy grows
With each fur kid we come to know,
And treasure just as we treasured you
You knew we’d find this to be true.

You had faith in us when we felt lost.
You knew the pain was just the cost
Of loving so well, so deep, so true,
Of loving someone as perfect as you.

Thank you for your deep belief
That I would learn, and find relief
From the suffering I thought would never end,
Thank you, my Bridge Kid, my truest friend.

-Susan Lynch 2 December, 2005,
In memory of Bingo & Buddy
In deepest gratitude to Ginny & Fifi

Can't sleep - the GUILT

2008-01-01T03:32:00.000-05:00

Well, here it is 2008 and I just can't bring myself to crawl into that cold bed without my kitty to curl up to. I think about how much he must have been hurting that last week of his life when we were all out of town and the house was so quiet and cold. And each day he got a little worse as the pet sitter gave him less and less insulin since he wouldn't eat. Why the hell didn't she call me?! He was on my bed feeling that way, with no mom to comfort him. Where's my mom? Why isn't she here? How can I ever crawl into that bed again and not think of his last days of suffering? Ugh...It's just plain awful the guilt I feel. And I'm so angry at myself for not paying attention to his weight loss and increased water consumption those last two months. What the hell was I thinking? I feel so selfish. I feel like such a neglectful mom. Orca, I hope you can forgive me. God, I hope I can forgive myself.

Orca and Heather in the beginning

2007-12-31T15:49:00.000-05:00

In September of 1992 I was living in Flagstaff, Arizona. I had been up there for about a month, was a sophmore in college at Northern Arizona University, and was living in an apartment on South Litzler street with my roommate Linette. I had been in Arizona for about 9 months after going through a pretty rough experience with my family at that time.

Flag was a beautiful place. It was also a lonely place. I had a hard time making friends anyway and I was also in a lot of emotional pain. I didn't know anyone yet except for Linette. But she was cool. We remained friends and roommates for the next two years. When Linette was out with friends or at her boyfriends house, the apartment was so quiet. Too much quiet. Too much room for my mind to prey upon my spirit.

One night Linette and I went to a party. A girl there had a little kitten she was carrying around. Everyone was playing with the kitty and when it found it's way around to me and I picked her up, I was moved by her purring, trust and soft little body. She was so cute. I had grown up with dogs, so this was one of my first cat experiences. My dad never really liked cats, so I had avoided them too. But I liked this kitten. She was sweet.

The next day Linette and I were sitting in the living room doing homework and at the exact same time we said, "What would you think about getting a cat?" Being the youngsters we were, that we had said the same thing at the same time was enough of a reason to get a cat.

Not knowing much about anything, we went to a pet store instead of a shelter to look for a cat. When we got there all they had were these $250 siamese cats. We were poor so that wouldn't work. The pet store clerk said, "Hey, there's a lady over by Basha's giving away kittens." Of course there was.

We went over to the lady and she had a big cardboard box in front of her. Inside there were half a dozen black kittens clamoring to get out of the box. And in the middle of them all was this funny looking kitten with long white whiskers, white fluffy boots, a srawny body and what looked like a twig sticking out of her butt. She looked at me and I looked at her and it was love at first site. At least on her part. I would need to be worked on. The month before I had had a jade necklace that was stolen and this kittens eyes were the same color as that beloved necklace I had worn since childhood. It seemed like a strange coincidence.

Linette spotted the kitten too and picked her up. She immediately crawled across Linette's shoulders on to mine and curled her little body around my neck. I had to admit I was smitten with the feeling of that kitten purring on my neck. The lady said to us, "Oh, that one is going to the pound to get put down. She's the runt of the last litter and she has an injured tail." Linette looked at me and we made a nonverbal agreement on the spot. "No, we'll take her."

So we went into the grocery store and got a pink bowl, some kitten food, a small pink litter box and litter, and brought her home to the apartment. I'd never had a cat before so I had no idea what to do. Linette was a pro so she took the lead.

Orca followed me around like a puppy. I didn't know what to make of her. She would jump on my lap the second I sat down, attack my hands if they were dangling over the edge of the couch, chew on my shoe laces, eat my paper, and hide and leap at my ankles when I walked by. Frankly, it was annoying. And she scratched. I was beginning to think my dad was right about cats.

The kitten even followed me into the bathroom and would cry and scratch on the door until I opened it. One day I was taking a shower with the kitten sitting on the ledge staring at me. Little beads of water were clinging to her long white whiskers. Strange kitty I thought. As I got out of the shower I saw a trail of blood in the water and thought I had cut myself shaving. But it was the kitten's tail. the part that was injured and all shriveled up had slipt open and was bleeding. All of a sudden I was so worried. I called out to Linette and she called the local vet to make an appointment. I spread out some newspaper and put the kitten on it and tried to keep her there. But she kept walking towards me over and over. It was like rolling a ball up a hill. I would put her in the middle of the newspaper and she would walk back to me. I'd pick her up and put her in the middle again, and again she came back to me. It was really cute. And still kinda annoying. But it made me laugh. It was good to laugh and she was so eager to be with me.

We took kitty to the vet and he said she would have to have her tail removed. Three days in and we were already at the vet. This would unfortunately be a life long pattern with Orca.

A day after the surgery the kitten was home with us and we were all on the back porch. Next door to us lived a giant Alaskan Malamutte named Patch. Patch stuck his head between the rail bar that seperated our porches and sniffed the kitty. Two pound kitty wasn't afraid. Instead she hissed and swiped at his nose. "Hey now killer, calm down" I said. Linette being a lover of all ocean animals said, "Hey! We should call her Orca, like a killer whale!" I wanted to call her Wally after my favorite childhood tree, but I thankfully lost that argument. Orca it was.

After a few months we settled into a routine at the apartment. Orca would follow me around. I would wear thick boots to avoid scratches to my ankles as she charged out of corners to attack me. Orca would chew on my homework and track kitty litter across my drawings. At night she would scratch on my door so I lined shoes up by the bed to launch at the door to chase her away. The more I resisted, the harder she tried to be near me.

Then one night she went into turbo-scratching mode on my door. What is the deal with cats?! I thought. So I opened the door and was about to put her in the bathroom, when she just started purring wildly and snuggled up to my chest. I stopped in my tracks. Ohhh...She just wants love. I get it. How sweet. That purring reached deep down in my heart and touched something. Something I hadn't felt in a long time. Trust and unconditional love.

I turned around and brought her back to my room. I put her in the bed and she curled up under my chin and put her two little paws around my neck. She nudged her head under my chin and I returned the same movement. I could feel her little kitten breathe on my neck. She fell fast asleep. No more chasing. No more stracthing on the door. Wow, this is awesome. I love Orca. And she loves me.

The absence of my furry friend

2007-12-31T15:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I had a melt down. My computer died (turns out it was just overheated) but for a moment I thought I had lost all my pictures and it sent me over the edge. Thankfully I remembered I was a computer geek and that I would figure something out. The good thing was that it forced me to sit with my feelings and grieve. It's hard for me to do that.

It's difficult to be at the house alone now. I walk by the places he used to sleep, or see his toys, his brushes, the unopen cans of food, the tufts of fur in corners... He's not here anymore. It's so quiet. A lot of times when everyone would leave, Orca would come find me and jump up in my lap or want to sit next to me. It was our time to just be alone.

I took some pictures of his toys, where his food bowls were, his favorite sunny spots, the clothes I was wearing when he died, even his litter box. Anything I could find that I could hold onto. I don't want to let go. I don't want to forget a thing about Orca.

You know, there were so many routines we had I didn't even give a second thought to. So many things done over and over that now have intense feelings attached to them. How many bowls of food and water did I fill? How many times did I change the litter box? How many songs did I sing to him? How many nights did we curl up together? How many little kitty breathes did I feel on my arm when he was napping in my lap? How many shots did he get in the last four and a half years?

Yesterday afternoon I cleaned out the last meal he never ate. As I scooped out the food and washed it down the disposal I just wept. I wept at the thought of him being so sick he couldn't or didn't want to eat anymore. I thought of the first pink food dish we got him when we thought he was a girl. And he was gone. I never thought washing a dish could be so hard. And today I cleaned the water bowl. How many times did he try and make himself feel better with that water? After I cleaned it and dried it, I held it to my heart and cried. I kissed the bowl and put it on the shelf with his other things. Maybe one day I can break up his bowls and make a mosaic.

I went around the house and sat in the places he had sunned himself and cried. I tried to remember him there sleeping peacefully. Orca loved the sun and would follow the sunshine around the house as the day progressed. If he could have had it his way he would have been outside all the time.

My friends and family have been taking good care of me. I'm so lucky to have support through this. So many people don't have that in there life. Thanks you guys for all your love and compassion. I love you.

Passing over to a new world

2007-12-30T09:33:00.001-05:00

Last night I put the dish of uneaten and spoiled food and Orca's water bowl on the kitchen counter. I couldn't face throwing them out. Not yet. I passed by his litter box and thought to myself, 'that was his last pee at home'. I remembered watching him struggle to get in and out of the box. It's how I knew he was really, really sick and needed to go to the hospital.

I sobbed at the memory of my little friend having such a hard time. I wish he could have come home before he died, but he was so weak. I regret that I had been on vacation for a week before he went to the emergency room. I thought of those cold, long, lonely days he must have been suffering by himself. No warm Mommy to go to. No Aunties Ria or Jackie, or Uncle Andy to seek out. Just a few minutes to try and get a message across to a stranger who came to feed him and give him his shots twice a day. The hopelessness and sadness he must have felt. The pet sitter knew he was not eating well, but she didn't know he was that sick. Orca hid his pain until he was critically ill. It was something I could read but was hard for others to see. But I knew as soon as I saw him he was really sick because we had been through this before. The symptoms were exactly the same as when he had gotten too much insulin the year before. So I gave him some sugar water that he lapped up quickly and and waited to see if that helped. His wobbling got worse and he was looking for a place to die. I rushed him to the vet because I knew he was in crisis.

Blood sugar off the charts. Ketoacidosis. (How could that be? He always had the opposite problem with getting too much insulin.) Wracked with guilt. Bad mother. Neglectful owner. Why didn't the pet sitter call me? Four pounds lost since the last visit. Nodules in the lungs. High t-cell count. Could be cancer. He's depressed. You left him alone. He needed you and you weren't there. Severe dehydration. Won't eat. Diarrhea. Can't walk without a struggle. You may want to consider euthanasia as an option. But he was getting better. He was jumping on the couch and wanting to be close. He was eating better. What is wrong with me? Why didn't I see this? Why didn't I take better care of him? God, forgive me for being a selfish soul.

A long sleepless and unsure night. I stayed at the hospital and went back to see him several times. I kept telling the vet techs that I would be in the waiting room and to come get me if anything happened. About 1 in the morning his blood sugar was down to 641 which was still extremely high. But it was an improvement. He was able to raise his head and purred when I petted him.

At one point in the night he gave me that look. The look I had always hoped he would give me to let me know he was ready to go. But I wasn't happy to see it. I was filled with panic and dread. No, no, no, I can't do it. What if he really just wants a chance to get better? What if these nodules in his lungs are not that bad and we can deal with it? What if I'm interpreting that look wrong?

It took me a long time to see that this was the end. This was Orca dying. He had been slowly wasting away for months but I ignored the signs. I feel so terrible that I didn't take him to the vet sooner. Even though he was eating and going about his normal routine, I could feel the boney spine and see the amount of water he was drinking had increased again. He had been diagnosed with diabetes four and a half years ago. We had managed his insulin pretty well most of that time. It had been a long run but his little body was worn out. I didn't want to see it. But I knew it was happening. I was in denial.

In his last few weeks he had become more active and interested in being around us. He came to me a lot for love and I remember thinking at points that maybe he knew his days were getting shorter. My roommates noticed the same thing. We puzzled at the irony of him getting a little better before the fast decline in his health. But now I think he was trying to tell us he was sick. He was hurting. The guilt I feel is crushing.

About 2 AM on the 29th I made the decision to end Orca's life. It was the worst decision I have ever had to make in my life. I knew he was getting better from this episode, but the vet had told me that he would still have several days in the hospital and a lot of tests and monitoring ahead of him with an uncertain future with the lung nodules. Long days at the vet, fear and more suffering were not what I wanted for my dear friend. This was his time to go and prolonging his life was for me, not Orca. He wanted trees and bugs and fresh air. He wanted home and quiet snuggles with mom. He wanted a body that could keep up with his spirit. Not this. I prayed and asked God for help. What should I do? The clear thought kept coming back to me that I had to do this for Orca. That he couldn't do it himself. That this was an act of mercy and kindness. That I had to let him go. Keeping him alive would be selfish of me and painful for him.

I talked with many friends and family members. Everyone was very supportive and ensured me that I was making the right decision. I wanted someone to tell me I was murdering my cat. That I was being selfish. That I had been a neglectful mother and I should be arrested for abuse. That he wasn't really ready to go and that it was me sending him to an early death. I wanted someone to confirm these feelings I was having about myself. But no one did. Everyone asked me if there was someone who could go through this with me and that I shouldn't be alone. I struggle with asking for help. But I knew this was going to be really hard and that Orca needed someone strong there too besides me. I thought of my dear friend Mark who had had to put a pet down and who also had an older dog who was not healthy. I gave him a call. Without hesitation he said he would be there with us. It was a very courageous thing to do. I knew he had had to go through this and that a lot of feelings and memories would come up for him.

I went back to the vet the next morning and told her that I had made the decision. She ensured me that I was making the right choice and told me what the procedure was. My heart filled with dread and panic. No, no, no, this is really happening now. Make it stop. I don't want to do this. God, please don't make me do this. I asked if I could bring him outside for awhile. Mark helped me ask if she would do the euthanasia outside the hospital and she said she would. I wanted his last moments to be outside where he most loved to be.

I brought in a favorite blanket of Orca's and tried to compose myself as best I could before they brought him to the exam room we were waiting in. I didn't want Orca to feel my sorrow and panic. I wanted to give him love and have some warm last moments together. When they brought him in and I picked him up in the blanket I was hit with a wave of guilt and dread. I pushed it back down and tried to focus on what I thought Orca would like for his last moments.

We went outside the hospital and found a corner where some bushes were and we could sit on a ledge. I untangled Orca from all his catheter cords and let him try and walk towards the bushes. He took a few wobbly steps and then got stuck. He cried a little and I knew it was his 'help me mom' cry. I put him back on the ledge and he head butted the branches on a bush. Orca loved to have the earth on him. If he could have I knew he would have flopped in the dirt and rolled around. He loved to do that and it was always the first thing he did when he got outside. After a few minutes he tried to turn around a walk towards me but he couldn't move himself very well. I picked him back up and put him in the blanket. He curled up and hid his face in my arm pit. Something he would always do at the vet when he was scared. I tried to empty my mind and ask him to talk to me. I heard 'I'm scared.' I think he knew what was happening. Usually we get in the car after a trip to the vet. Usually he was feeling a lot better before he got to go home. But here we were and the tubes were still in him.

I talked to him and said that there would be people there who would greet him on the other side. He didn't know them, but they knew me. My granddad Julian, and grandmother Millie. My childhood dogs Jaques and Schon. My brother and sister-in-law's dog Buffy. Mark's dog Nikki And most recently, our young friend Henry. They would come to meet him and he would find new friends and people to love him in the new world he was going to. He would have no pain and lots of grass and sun, fresh air, all the tuna and turkey he could eat, and he could do anything he wanted to do. He could chase birds and sleep under the stars. And someday I would come there too. And would he be sure to meet me there? I told him he could come see me whenever he wanted to. He could put a message in my mind or come see me in my dreams. I sang him his songs and told him how much I loved him and was grateful for him and was sorry for all the bad times he had with me too as I struggled to overcome my challenges in life. And thanked him for loving me even when I didn't pay attention to him as much as I should have sometimes.

I told Mark the story of how Orca came into my life and remembered that big fuzzy head and scrawny kitten body. The hurt tail that no one wanted to fix. He told me about his experience putting Nikki down and how this was good that I could spend time with him first and it wasn't in a traumatic setting.

Next to the vet's office a group of young college kids was moving into a house. A young woman with dark hair was moving some boxes. I thought, I was her age when Orca came into my life. And now his life is ending. It was a poignant and sad moment to realize how special that was to know a spirit through their whole life.

I had many moments of panic and indecision. I'm so grateful Mark was there with Orca and I at this moment. Mark has such a strong spirit. I knew he had struggled with his own pets who had been old. I knew I could trust his judgment and when mine was faulting.

After awhile Orca fell asleep with his little furry head next to my breast. I knew he was probably uncomfortable since he had been off fluids for awhile. I was glad he had relaxed a little and could sleep. It was time to let him go. I asked Mark to tell the vet we were ready.

A few minutes later she came out with the syringes of fluid. One was clear pink and the other was clear. I felt this freight train of dread and panic. No, no, no. Please God, let there be another way. The vet had to find his catheter and he woke up. But he didn't move much and stayed curled up in my arms. I held him tight and kissed his forehead. I gave him head butts and told him don't be scared and I loved him and would miss him. He held still. The vet put the pink fluid in the catheter. Then the clear. And then he was gone in seconds. His eyes were still a little open. He didn't shudder. He didn't gasp. It was total peace. His bladder released and I felt the warm fluid seep through the blanket onto my leg. He was still warm and soft and I held him a few more minutes and just wailed over his little body. I rocked him back and forth. Oh God, what have I done. He's gone, he's not in his body anymore. It's over. 15 and a half years with this little bright, loving being are over. What do I do now? What am I going to do without him?

I kissed his head man times and stroked his fur. I tried to close his eyes but they wouldn't close. I said goodbye and took my last look at that precious little kitty. I covered his little body with the edges of the blanket and took him inside. He was heavy again. A vet tech who had been there the night before took him from me. I felt so empty. So cold. I asked what happened next. They said he would be cremated and they would call me when I could come get the ashes. I stood there feeling like half my soul had been taken away.

We left the hospital and Mark held me for awhile as I cried. I called my mom and told her he was gone. She knew Orca his whole life too and had cared for him a couple of times when I was away for several months. She cried with me awhile. I talked to my sister-in-law Amy and she shared her experiences with her dog Buffy and having to put her down. She told me about how it would feel now and gave me some hope for the future when I wouldn't feel this bad. But it would take awhile.

I hung out with Mark for the rest of the day and then went home. By that time Andy, Ria and Jackie were home and I talked with them some and they were very supportive. They loved Orca too and this is a loss for our home to not have his gentle spirit there with us. While I was standing there I felt the stress and feelings from the last two days roll over my body like a lead blanket. I went into my room and got into the cold bed. No happy furry face to greet. No meal to serve. No kitty to tell he was a good boy for eating so well. No shot to give. No Orca to tuck in. No rituals of snuggling or settling in. Just me. I cried and called out to Orca. Was he there? An image in my mind came of Orca, a little younger and healthier, laying on my chest and head butting me eagerly. My little buddy. Maybe he was missing these moments too. I asked God to look after him and comfort him.

As I lay there I thought of our normal going to bed ritual. If I were up too late Orca would come and find me, and lay down on me or near me until I went to bed. He rarely went to bed without me. He would follow me into the bathroom and watch me wash my face and brush my teeth. I would talk to him and ask him if he was ready for bed. He would yawn. Then I would pick him up and take him into my room and put him on the bed. He would purr and look at me with his sleepy loving eyes, happy he could have his mom time.

Then when I got in the bed he would come up and head butt me or curl his warm body at my feet or against my butt. Or if my leg were drawn up he would sleep in the little triangle. Sometimes he would crawl up and lay down so his little head was under my chin. He would nudge his head upward and I would respond by repeating the same motion with my chin. He would purr and purr. And then we fell asleep he made a long sigh and his purring settled into a low, soft murmur as he slept. Sometimes he would dream and his little legs would be twitching like he was running. If he were having a nightmare he would whine a little or growl. I would place my hand on him to wake him. He would flinch a little, but then we he saw it was me he would purr loudly and come cuddle close to me for comfort. It was so sweet to know he took comfort in my arms.

I woke up several times in the night. Orca usually woke me up at least once in the night for a snack or as a matter of routine. I almost think he woke me up sometimes because he thought he was suppose to and even when he was really tired. It's funny like that when you've lived for such a long time with someone. When I got up, I instinctively drew my legs up before swinging them over the bed to avoid waking Orca. Then I remembered: He's gone. I sat on the floor next to the bed and wept over the spot on the covers where his fur was and where he should have been.

A little shedded claw was stuck in the quilt. I picked it up and held it to my heart. And then found a little piece of fur and held that too. What would I do now? No one to feed. No shots. No kisses goodbye when I leave the house. No Orca at the door when I came home or to curl in my lap when I watched a movie or TV. No little precious friend to watch get excited when the back door was opened and he was free to roam in the back yard. No moments of divine sweetness for me to capture on my camera when I came around a corner and found him in a shoe box sleeping, or with his arms dangling over the edge of a chair.

I just don't know if I'll ever get over this loss. This feeling of guilt that I watched him waste away and all the times I wasn't there for him. That he was suffering so much alone his last week of life. That he couldn't have his last moments at home. That I'll never feel his warm, soft body next to mine, purring and totally trusting me. There will never be another soul, another kitty like Orca. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I'll never, ever regret that day in Flagstaff when he curled up onto my shoulder and asked to be taken home. It's the best choice I ever made in my whole life.

Orca, wherever you are, I love you more than I could ever find words for. I miss you so much. I'm sorry for all the bad times and so grateful for all the good times and your constant love and forgiveness and trust. You were my world and now you are gone to a better place. I hope you knew before you left how much I love you and how hard it was to let you go. I wish there could have been an easier way for you to leave this world, but I'm glad I got to be there with you in the end. I don't want to go forward without you but I'll do the best I can to honor your memory. I'm a better person for having known you. For having your love and acceptance. Peace to you my soul mate. Someday we'll meet again my little sweet Orca bear.