Now Grace Is Gone, Too

Yesterday we put our second cat in 12 days to sleep.

Needless to say, it hasn't been a great two weeks.

As you know, our other cat, Will, had blood clots and died two weekends ago. Grace, Will's 9-year-old sister from the same litter, seemed to (understandably) be moping around and appeared not to be eating or drinking very much. So we took her to the vet last Saturday.

Everything appeared OK initially, but the next day Grace didn't want to use her back legs much and basically stayed put. Paul then got a message from the vet: Grace's kidney's were not good and she needed to be taken to an animal hospital immediately.

So for three days -- Sunday through Wednesday -- her kidneys were basically flushed out. After the third day, the vet said we would know whether we should continue or whether it was no use.

It was no use.

So Paul and I left work early yesterday for the horrid task of putting our cat to sleep. She seemed tired, and we knew the only thing that was keeping her in good shape was the fluid she was connected to. And so we said goodbye to yet another cat.

For as much as I thought I disliked the cats, the place sure seems empty without them.

Paul, Will and Grace in Columbus

Goodbye, Will. You Were a Good Cat.

Grace (left) and Will

I am very upset that our cat Will died last weekend, and no one is more surprised by that than I am.

It happened very quickly. The cats woke us up with their meowing early Saturday morning, as they always do. At 7 a.m., when Paul went to shut them into the computer room with their food and litter box, he noticed that Will couldn't move his hind legs. Paul spent the next two hours finding the veterinarian's office that opened the earliest and trying to keep Will from moving.

We got to the vet at 9 on the dot, but neither of us held high hopes. Unbeknownst to us at the time, we had each independently googled Will's symptoms, so we weren't shocked when the vet told us that it appeared that Will suffered from a series of blood clots. He recommended that Will be put down. An hour later and it was all over.

Before we got Will and Grace almost four years ago, I hadn't had a pet for maybe 15 years. Even then, they were outdoor cats who frequently got the short end of the stick early in their lives when they came into contact with the local coyotes. I quickly realized that bonding with an animal was a lost cause that was sure to end badly, and soon.

The last time I can remember being truly upset about a lost pet was in the fourth grade. I was so upset -- almost in tears, if I wasn't actually crying -- that my teacher, Miss Yoder, called me up to her desk and asked if there was anything I wanted to talk to her about. I just couldn't bring myself to tell her that we had accidentally run over one of our cats on the way to school just that morning.

So my pet experiences haven't been good, and I'll be the first to admit that cats frequently annoy me. But now I miss greeting both Wilbur and The Gracie Cat (can pets have pet names?) when I get home. I miss Will hanging out by the dishwasher when I unload it, playing with the puddles of water on the open door. And I hate Grace's pitiful meows, wondering where her brother is.

Don't remind me that I wanted to give the cats away. I already feel guilty enough as it is.