The Hailey Chronicles: Saying Goodbye

Get ready to cry, y’all, because this story is a sad one. 🙁 (TW: pet death)

One week ago, we had to say goodbye to our sweet furbaby Hailey. I’ve talked about her before. She had kidney disease. We were taking her to the vet three times a week for fluids and had her on a regimen of medication to keep her comfortable and functioning well, as she was nearing nineteen and a half. We knew her time was coming to an end — but by the beginning of this year, she was still mostly stable. Her bloodwork looked okay — not fantastic, because kidney disease, but not horrendous, either — and she still had fight in her. She’d still play, get on my mother’s lap, eat, drink, get on our kitchen table when we cooked to try to get scraps (or, spend time with her favorite humans), and hung out with me when I worked at night, often battling me to be allowed to walk on my keyboard. Damn, she loved it. It’s backlit in a rainbow of colors, which I think was the attraction. I have several Google Sheets that she’d completely bork if she did her little stroll across it, so there was always this panicked, “No, Hailey, no!” thing with me grabbing her gently and placing her next to my computer, encouraging her to just sit there and let me pet her instead. Sometimes it worked, and I’d work one handed, petting her with my free hand; other times, it didn’t and she’d battle me for a looooong time. Or give up and jump down. Or I’d “elavator” her down. (Gently put her on the floor myself. I started calling it “Elevator Kitty,” complete with sound effects. Yes, I’m a goofball). Anyway, she seemed okay. She’d have her ups and downs eating wise, and would sleep a lot. But for a cat who was the human equivelent of ninety-plus, what could we expect? Of course she was tired.

But my mom claimed that a week prior she saw a marked difference in her eating, and she had a feeling. I didn’t see it, as, like I said, she always had ups and downs. But last week, when Mom woke me up and told me that Hailey just wasn’t eating or drinking and was hiding, and it “might be time,” I just knew. Instinctively. We’d braced ourselves for this very day for over a year. Abstractly we knew it was coming. But damn — the reality, though? No one could even predict how devastating it could really be. (And, she was technically my first cat, and my first cat to be euthanized). I knew Hailey seventeen years. Since I started dating my husband. Hubby knew her from six weeks. So our entire relationship, we’ve watched this cat grow up. Like a child, really, as we don’t have children. She was really all we had. And she was truly a joy.

Even when she was biting me. Even when she was having severe separation anxiety at night and was yowling because she was lonely. (Which was why I stayed with her when I could). Even when we had to run her to the ER vet multiple times because she wouldn’t eat, or got severely constipated, or got a UTI. Or the fluid rounds. Or anything, really. Who gives a crap? She was our child. We’d take care of her. To the end, I said.

The end was Tuesday.

They initially couldn’t fit us in till the next day. Hailey didn’t have another twenty-four hours. I knew that, too. She was having trouble walking. So, I asked, practically pleaded, to be squeezed in. We have been longtime clients of this vet (my sister as well), so they made room for us. We also found out later that they informed everyone of what was going on — because the staff had taken care of Hailey. Some of them even approached us after and gave us their condolences, which touched my heart so much.

So our appointment was in the afternoon. Hailey continued to deteriorate. 🙁 It wasn’t pretty. She was hiding everywhere. Hubby’s parents stopped by to say goodbye.

At one point, I found her lying in front of our bedroom door.Toward the end, it’d been hard to have her with us at night. Because she had dementia, she’d come in and out over and over again, waking us up many times throughout the night. She’d jump around, knock things over — it just wasn’t working, as heartbreaking as it was. At one time, we used to let her sleep with us, and I’d wake up to find her plastered next to me, sound asleep. Anyway, I told hubby that we needed to put her on the bed one last time. This was her favorite place. So we put a blanket around her and set her on the bed. I got on the bed with her and petted her and talked to her. I don’t know if she realized where she was at that point, but I needed to do that for her. I think on some level she knew. She needed that so much.

So the time came to take her, and we did the thing. It was as sad as you can imagine. They gave us as much time as we needed. Apparently her kidneys were shutting down already and she wouldn’t have survived long if we hadn’t brought her in. We wanted to free her from her pain, and let her go peacefully. And she did. At one point, she put her little paw on my hand and nuzzled me. I got to hold her too. I watched her go. When the vet declared her gone, I cried so hard. It was like a dam had burst inside me. Throughout the next few days, I had episodes like that. Especially at night, when the house was so quiet and still. I’m so used to having her make little noises. Her stuff is gone. We donated her food. We’re used to her medication regimen, getting up for fluid appointments…now, nothing. It’s quite the adjustment. It’s a strange adjustment. It’s not right.

I fear it will never be right.

I posted on FB about it, along with a poem I wrote that first night alone. You can see it here. I know these things take time. I know she’s in a better place. But damn, it hurts so much. So, so much.

But one bright spot. A few days after she passed, I was pulling my Lenormand cards. I didn’t ask about her, as I wanted to wait a bit for that, but apparently she wanted to send me a message anyway:

Dog ~ Sun ~ Heart

Dog is either Dog or a pet, as there isn’t a cat card in Lenormand. 😉 Sun is happiness. Heart is love. I took that to mean that our little furbaby is happy and loves us very much. She crossed the Bridge. She’ll be waiting for us to join her someday.

Meantime, we’ll have our memories. Because who could possibly forget a nineteen-year-old black cat who loved chicken and my rainbow keyboard? Who was a companion to my hubby before I came into his life? Who wasn’t much of a cuddler, but in her old age decided that laps were the coolest thing and loved them? Who loved to sit next to me and watch me while I worked, earning her the nickname “Helper Kitty”? Who will always be in our hearts and minds, never forgotten?

Goodbye, sweet child. Your humans love you. We’ll see you at the Bridge.