Wednesday, September 6, 2017
Princess went to the Rainbow Bridge today
For almost fourteen years, we were blessed with the most wonderful cat. We rescued her from a shelter in Vermont. She was a wedding present, and we always celebrated her birthday the same day as our anniversary. When we found her, in her cage with her brother, she reached her paw out and touched my nose. We brought them both home, but Hanson was sick, and never got better. Princess was different.
Princess was a love, there's no other way to describe her. She was my unofficial service kitty. She knew, somehow, that I have chronic anxiety, and whenever I walked into a room where she was, she would chirp. If Princess was flopped down on a rug, and I walked by, she would grab at me with a paw, as if to say "Hey! Look at my fluffy tummy, get down here and adore me." And I would, every time.
We moved her from Vermont to Minnesota, then to another house in Minnesota, and finally, to where we are now. And while she hated-hated-being in the car, she knew that wherever we were, she was home and safe.
This morning, I couldn't find her. I went downstairs and she was semi-conscious on the entryway floor. I picked her up and rather than tensing up in her usual "I love you but if you don't put me down I will bite your face off" way, she was limp. I put her gently on her chair, and she couldn't stand. She was disoriented, growling, her ears were back. Princess was in pain.
So we did what many pet parents have to do. We went to the vet, my husband driving quickly but gently, me holding Princess in my arms, our son in the backseat, petting her softly. I already knew, somewhere in my aching heart, what today would bring, but I was still hopeful.
The vet put in a catheter, then brought Princess out to us, after moving us to a larger room. I sat in a chair, holding her, talking to her, while she rested her head on my shoulder. We spent time with her, just reminding her how very much we loved her. Then the vet came back with two syringes. Her fur wet with my tears, Princess went to sleep. Princess went to the Rainbow Bridge.
My beautiful, wondrous, amazing, loving, fluffy cat is dashing around a catnip field, most likely bopping her brother on the nose, and stalking butterflies. My heart is breaking, but I know we made the right decision.
The house is empty. My husband is removing her accoutrements, because he knows I cannot bear to do that. For nearly fourteen years, Princess was my angel kitty, and today, she finally gets her wings.