I think one of the things that's killing me so much about the cat end-of-life issues is that my dad's taking it hard. She is/was "his" cat. (I don't even know what tense to use. I kind of figure the cat's in some limbo between life and death so I find myself using the past tense.)
My mom called me up (on an unrelated measure) and she talked about how she had taken the cat in to the vet for some therapy (and also for the vet to look at her and decide if it was "time" yet, and to discuss the various end-of-life procedures). She said, "Your dad drove me over there and I could tell he was really tickled when I came back out with a cat." (I guess they had discussed beforehand the possibility that it was "time.")
That breaks my heart. Seriously it does. As sad as losing the cat makes me, it makes me even sadder for my dad and how he must feel.
I can be doing okay with stuff (like at funerals and things) but if I look over and realize my dad's crying, it just destroys me for some reason. I may be going along not even really shedding many tears, but as soon as I know he's crying, I just start to bawl.
I think it's because when I was a little kid I saw my dad as the big tough strong one who could fix anything, and so somewhere deep in my brain, the child that is left in my psyche goes, "If Dad's upset, it must really be something unfixable."
I also think part of it is that emotionally we're a lot alike...the dislike of showing strong emotion, the feeling a need to be the tough strong one, but when that dam breaks, it's kind of hard to put it back together.
Friday, July 18, 2008
One quick thing...
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Daddies crying is the worst thing in the world. [bottom lip pout]
And I understand about the kitteh. I had a gorgeous and sweet Maine Coon, "Scooter", who was "special needs" (disabled, epileptic, etc.) that I had to put down... OH GOD! That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Poor baby. I still miss him.
And this year will be the last year for another kitteh that is dear to me, "Bailey", who lives with my parents. Also a Maine Coon (can you tell my preferences?) I got him in my senior year of high school. Yeah, I'm 31 now. He just has the best personality, so sprightly and fun and cuddly. He always made my day. Funny, they complained about how curious and tenacious he was when he was younger but now they're SO SAD that he's dying. Good thing we have "Koshka". She reminds me a lot of "Bailey". Not a Maine Coon, but close enough. ;-)
Sorry about your kitty. Hug your Dad.
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