Mother Monster

On Sunday,  the decision was made that Rhiannon had gotten so bad that she needed to be taken to the vet to be put down. That didn't happen until today because I had stuff that needed to happen on Monday and Tuesday.  It's been this kind of delayed hell and I've been doing my best not to think about it. I did think about it, of course. Ever since Sunday, it's been this piercing scream in the back of my mind.

All the way to the vet's, I apologized to her for this having to happen. I told her I loved her. I talked about some of our best memories. I babbled. She probably didn't hear any of it because she hates being in the carrier and was making her 'angry protest' noise. We got there a little early and I couldn't make myself move. I watched these people down the way trying to talk themselves into taking their dog inside. Finally I grabbed the carrier and went inside. I felt like a monster. I still do, by the way.

The people at the clinic were nice. Everyone was so good to us. She handled it well and her last minutes were honestly a lot more peaceful than she'd looked in quite a while. It made me realize how much pain she'd been in and for how long. At that moment, I felt like a guilty irresponsible monster.

Then she was quiet and it was over. They walked me out and I sat in the car and tried to make myself function. I realized I was singing out loud. It was "The Wheels on the Bus" because my best friend's kid loves it and I always feel like I'm comforting and nurturing her when I sing it. Maybe that's what I needed in that moment.

Rhiannon was a good kitty. She was stunningly beautiful when she was a kitten, with lovely fur and big, adorable paws. She taught Rowan how to eat food and how to use the litterbox. She used to curl up against my roommate's side and bury her head against him. She loved blankets and would find ways to tunnel under as many as possible. Often at night she would come and sleep on me.

This is agony to write. I hated today. I'll continue to hate it because even though I know it's my responsibility to make sure the kitty has a peaceful and good ending to her life, I still loved that life and found it to be beautiful. I made the decision to end it. I made the arrangements to end it. I drove to the place where it would end and I handed her to the people who made it happen. Rationally, yes. It was the right thing to do. Emotionally? I feel like a monster. I will for a while.