In the hours afterward

I just finished cleaning out the bathroom that was Mocha’s home since her December stroke, because I’m not much good for desk work right now. The house seems empty and silent without her puckish spirit in all corners. I am relieved that she’s no longer suffering and is free, but it was a spectacularly awful morning. I’ll share with you just how awful so that you know my “gifts” for animal caretaking sometimes fail me.

No one who knew Mocha would be surprised that the cantankerous, fiercely independent old girl would take her leave her own way. Yesterday I took her out on the back deck so she could feel the sun on her fur. She perked up, despite her dementia, and sniffed long and deep into the wind coming from the parking lot that was her home for almost 18 years until I brought her home two years ago. I wondered then if she was thinking of those years, and her deep bond with Marvin, her mate, who passed before her a couple of years ago.

This morning, she was so frail she could barely walk, and could no longer drink and eat, so it seemed clear that Dr. Sue would need to come over and help escort Mocha into the next plane. So I sadly set about making her comfortable. The sliding door was open to the deck, and when she smelled the breeze, she got up on rickety legs and walked slowly through the door. I followed her, and when she lay down on the deck I put a blanket on her to keep her warm. I went back inside for maybe two minutes, and when I checked on her, was horrified to see she was missing. I frantically searched the deck, and when I could not find her, I looked over the side.

There she was on the pavement, maybe 8 feet below. I shrieked and raced downstairs, convinced she was dead. I scooped her up off the ground, crying, and she looked up at me with the funniest look that was equal parts, what are you crying for woman?! and shit, THAT didn’t work…

What on earth Mocha was trying to do by walking off the deck I had no idea. (I think either follow the scents to the parking lot, or just get away from me, so she could die in peace.) I’ve never heard of an animal committing suicide, but she was such a tough old coot I would not have put it past her.

Tough doesn’t quite cover it. I brought her back upstairs and lay her on the rug, thinking she would die any moment from her injuries, and called the vet, hysterical and begging her to please come. At that moment, she got up and started walking BACK to the deck on wobbly legs. I stopped her, and cuddled her for the 20 minutes until Dr. Sue came. By then she was listless and giving up – almost limp in my arms. The vet said it’s possible she had internal injuries from the fall, and could be in pain, so I said, let’s let her go.

So I held her while the needles did their work, kissing the top of her head and telling her to go find Marvin. I also told her that I was certain that now that she’s experienced LOVE in this life, she will find it again in the next. I wrapped her in favorite blanket and carried her out to Dr. Sue’s car, experiencing again what I noticed when I was there for my mother’s death: once death comes, the body is irrelevant. It looked like Mocha, but it wasn’t my old girl. She is gone now but when I close my eyes I see her as a shining light, and a young cat, prancing freely into the beautiful void.

St. Francis, guide her safely on her journey.