My sweet Rosie is old.
Tim and I have been talking about putting her to sleep
for some time now, but I just can't do it.
Her hearing and eye sight are very poor and she has arthritis.
She spends all day sleeping on a chair under the table in our kitchen.
Then, sometime during the night she will get up
and go down to the basement to use the litter box.
Only thing is, she doesn't get in the box. She goes next to it.
(Luckily the basement isn't finished
and I can pour bleach directly onto the floor.)
I know it's time.
I know it should be done before it gets worse and she starts to suffer.
So, I told Tim that I would let Rosie go this weekend.
Today was the day. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
My cats are like my children. I love them fiercely.
Unless you are an animal lover, there is no explaining it.
You have to feel it.
So today, I told Tim to take Rosie to the vet before I changed my mind.
(Tim took her to our local vet Dr. Natz, here in town. He is retired,
but worked out of his home and still does shots and these sorts of things.)
He would then take Rosie out to a farm site where his dogs,
Buster and Lady are buried, so they could all be together.
As they walked out the door and got into the car,
I could hear Rosie howling. I will never forget that sound.
(She hates to be in the car. She is a home body.)
I immediately fell on the floor and cried and cried and cried.
I cried so hard I thought I was going to be physically ill.
It was the worst ten minutes of my life.
That's right.
Ten minutes.
Ten minutes later,
Tim and a HOWLING Rosie were back!
Dr. Natz is in the hospital.
He has pneumonia.
He was really, really sick,
but today he made a little come back.
He got a second chance.
So did Rosie.
On to plan B...
