Tink's Last Day

Animals have a way of knowing when death is coming. They prepare in their own way for the end of their life. It is so unlike human nature. We fret and fight it with everything we have, denying and holding on. From what I have seen, the animals have it right. They usually go off on their own, away from everything to spend their last days in peace. What a way to go. If I knew it was coming, I’d like to spend my last days in peace, not fighting to stay here longer unnaturally. But that is a different conversation.

For some time now our cat, Tinkerbelle, has been getting sicker. Two weeks ago when we came back from a weekend trip to Seattle, she was looking very fragile indeed. Her appetite decreased so much that she barely ate anything at all. It was obvious she had lost a considerable amount of weight. It was shocking to see the numbers on the scale, though. She used to be a fat lazy cat weighing in at a healthy twelve pounds. Now she was diminished down to a mere seven and a half pounds (smaller than both of my boys birth weights)!
We finally took her to the Vet a few days ago. I was prepared to hear that she needed a new special diet, or maybe a vitamin for cats that would revive her. No, none of that would be needed. We were facing her last days. The Vet told us she had lymphoma in her stomach - which made it nearly impossible to eat. I wasn’t ready for this. Holding back tears, I didn’t want to accept it. Surely she couldn’t be dying… but then again all of the signs were there. She looked more haggard than I had ever seen her, and her escapes outside had been more frequent as well. We were all going to have to say good byes to our sweet Tinkerbelle… forever.
Nearly five years ago, Martin and I were still newlyweds living in Nebraska when we adopted Tinkerbelle from the “Cat Sanctuary.” She was our “baby” then. We brushed her nearly every day, I even gave her baths from time to time, and she greeted us much like a puppy went we came through the front door. She’s lived in every place that we have… there in our very first apartment, at my parents home when we moved in with them (both times), in our second apartment in Coeur d’Alene where we first brought Elijah home to, also in the house that we bought Owen home to (which was not our own- we were house-sitting rent free), and finally the house that has become her last home, the house that God blessed us with last spring.
I can’t help feeling that we are losing part of our family. I know how silly that sounds… she’s an animal right? They only live so long. I know, but she has given us so much. She’s tolerated two rambunctious boys poking, and prodding, and petting too enthusiastically. But more than that, she’s been a true companion. After the boys are in bed each night she finds her spot on the couch with me, or if I’m in bed reading, she is there too. In fact, whenever I am alone, she finds her way to me, as if to say, “I’m here for you, you are not alone.” She has been such a comfort to me especially in times of loneliness. That’s really the reason Martin agreed to get her five years ago. He had one more year of college to finish which meant cross-country and track meets on the weekends and LOTS of studying and school work in between. Tinkerbelle kept me company while he was away. She was something else I could love, and in return she loved me so unconditionally.
Today is her last day. It seems so strange to set a time to it. We considered letting her go in the wild somewhere, but it would be more pain and struggle for her that way, since she has no claws and can’t eat anything. So the date and time is set. Tonight at five-thirty we’ll drive to the Vet to say our last goodbyes.
We are truly going to miss you Tink! You have been a sweet part of our family.

Note: Did you know cats are the only animals that smile with their eyes?
I'm going to miss Tink's beautiful green eyes slanting into that happy "smile."