I've been putting this off for such a long time, but I guess it’s time I told you, my readers and friends, about a truly tragic thing. Our darling Podgebelly was put to sleep a few weeks ago and I can’t begin to tell you how terribly upset and traumatized the whole experience has been for the entire family.

We knew, for some time, that he had Feline Leukemia and that his time left on Earth was limited, but he was eating and still perfectly happy.

He was more than happy to continue to engage in the occasional tussle with Ming, to swat Macca when he became too annoying and to indulge his passion for snoozing on his back on the floor, so we decided that, although he was becoming painfully thin, his quality of life was still pretty good.

Until a few Sunday nights ago…

It is my habit to indulge in a cigarette on the back step before bed and it was an appalling evening. Rainy, stormy and just the sort of night for staying INSIDE! At about 2.45AM (thanks Kat!) I had decided it was more than time for bed and was having my bedtime ciggie from the safety of the back porch when my wonderful husband came hurtling into the laundry shouting for my help. I dashed into the lounge room too see a truly pitiful sight. There was my beautiful gentle giant in the throes of a tremendous seizure in the middle of the floor. Being an Epileptic myself, I automatically tuned to the clock and watched as the seconds turned sickeningly into minutes. Too long! Too long..I kept telling myself. He’s been convulsing too long!!

Finally, he quieted and tried to stand, but it was no use. He was completely in a post seizure daze and it was unsafe for him to move around. My next move was, of course, to ring my wonderful, long suffering Vet. Sue, bless her, agreed to meet me at the surgery in half an hour..(although there was ONE tiny drop of hope in her voice when she asked if it could wait for just a FEW more hours)…poor girl.

The weather matched my mood as I drove in the pouring rain to the Vet, with a very quiet Fatty in the basket beside me. Sue was waiting when I pulled up and her first words were about how much weight he’d lost since his last visit. Then she went on to tell me that epilepsy in cats was extremely rare and was I …BANG! Over went Fats into another appalling seizure.

She raced off and injected a relaxant into him until his seizure eased and then she explained that brain damage was probably certain, what with two seizures so close together…or, I could take him home on a course of medication for six months….but that’s all he’d have. Six months, the possibility of brain damage, the certainty of more seizures and the daily trauma of medication.

By this time, my heart was breaking because I knew that there was no way I was putting him through that. Not a chance. I made that awful decision to put him to sleep..then and there, so I could stroke him to sleep and help him not feel fear or pain. I was crying SO hard..just like I am now. Sue was wonderful. She went and got a beautiful fleece rug and put it on the stainless steel table so that he wouldn't be lying on cold steel, then she shaved his paw, put a tourniquet on his upper paw, injected the site and undid the tourniquet. He slipped quietly off to sleep in my arms with me sobbing like a fool over the top of him. She promised to bury him out at her farm under the apricot tree.

R.I.P Lord Tripod. My beautiful, Gentle Couch Potato.

In Loving Memory of Fatty

Copyright © Jo Gray
November 6, 2006