One day you will regret.
Regret scolding her.
Scolding for scratched wallpaper.
For broken plant pots.
For the chicken stolen from the table.
Regret neglecting her so many times when she begged you to take her in your arms:
“I have to go and you’ll cover me all over with your hair!”
“But I have just been holding you in my arms! Isn’t that enough?”
“What is wrong with you? You have water, you have food. Go to sleep on the sofa. Why are you meowing all the time?”
“You see, I have to print. And you are lying on the keyboard!”
She wanted to be with you but you were always busy. You always had to do your daily chores or to communicate with your online friends. How late did you realise that SHE needed you much more than all your online friends!
Only yesterday you refused to take her in your arms when she begged you. And today she refuses the tasty treats she has always loved so much!
Now you are ready to carry her in your arms all day long but SHE doesn’t need that now. She breaks away and dodders to the entrance door. Who is she going to escape from? You? Or someone creepy, whom she sees but you don’t yet?
“Shall we go to the vet?” – your hubby asks having returned from work.
You are not sure that will help but you clutch at this straw.
“17 years old? That’s 90 in humans years,” – muses the vet, having questioned you and examined the cat.
What’s the difference how old she is in humans years! Her mother is still alive!
“The temperature is 3 degrees below normal.”
That doesn’t tell you anything new. You yourself feel the cold of the tiny body.
“Well, I can put her on a drip…” – the doctor adds doubtingly.
Some time later your kitty, hooked up to an I.V., starts to shout at the top of her voice. Never has she yelled so terribly. She struggles to break loose. And you try to soothe her: “Calm down, sweetie! Be patient! You should get well.” But you can’t stand that any more and soon begin to sob bitterly without being embarrassed about people watching you.
The torment is over at last. Your hubby pays the vet and you with the sufferring cat go to the exit.
“Has the kitty broken her leg?” – the old lady, waiting in a queue with her cat, asks you with sympathy, pointing at the bandaged after the I.V. therapy leg. You are not able to answer and just shake your head and run to the car.
At home your kitty gets worse. She screams almost all the time. As terribly as she did at the vet’s. No more does she get up and you hold her while she drinks as her legs are too week.
During the night her desperate screams wake you up several times and you clasp her to your breast and lull her to calm down.
Next day she refuses to drink. She keeps crying and you curse yourself for torturing her at the vet’s in vain. In the evening, having given her injections, together with hubby you carefully instil water into her mouth with a syringe without a needle. That seems to help. She quiets down. And you even hope that everything will be okay.
This night she lies so calm that you can’t understand whether she is alive. Keeping warm her little body, you try to feel her heart beats.
In the morning, a strange sound wakes you up. As if someone sneezes. And you realise that it’s your cat. She “sneezes” again. And her whole body twitches brokenly. Again you clasp her to your breast, stroke and whisper in her ear: “I love you, my little baby.”
Having “sneezed” once again, she becomes quiet. You still keep wrapping her in the blanket and stroking.
But there are no miracles. She’s gone.
Forever having left you with the regrets at what you HAVEN’T DONE for her.