Friday night, we had to say goodbye to Nuzzle...
Last summer, she started losing weight very quickly, which we knew was not a good sign. Our vet diagnosed her with the early stages of kidney failure. While there are extreme measures that might have given her a few more months, they would have greatly decreased her quality of life. We made the decision at that time to just give her the best quality of life for as long as we could; the vet estimated six months and gave us key signs to watch for that would tell us the end was coming.The past few weeks she has been drinking more, and her fur had become pretty dry, which we knew was not good. We also found her lying in odd positions. But Friday night, she made it clear it was time. When Brad walked into our bathroom, her favorite place, she tried to urinate in front of him, but it was only a trace and bloody. I knew by the way he called for me it was not good. While he was on the phone with the emergency vet, she did the same to me. When I picked her up, I knew she was in pain. It was time.
We were all able to give her lots of love and snuggles, and then Brad took her to the vet. She was at peace in the end, and we know with absolute certainty it was the right thing to do.
I also know I am devastated. Without a doubt, Nuzzle was my cat. She came into our lives Brad and I's first Christmas together. When we picked her up at the shelter, she nuzzled right into our arms and I knew she was ours. Nuzzle was so sick when we adopted her. The first time I went to bring her home she was too sick to come, and I cried and Brad left me little notes all over the apartment the next day because he knew I would be so sad to come home to an apartment without her. When she finally did come home, she was on medicine and wouldn't eat. We warmed milk and turkey baby food to help her gain strength.
Soon, she was well and so snugly. Sleeping on the bed wasn't enough. She would crawl under the covers and up my shirt to sleep. When she got bigger, she would sleep curled around my head. She would still nuzzle into our arms when we picked her up. Even Friday, she nuzzled in.
I miss her. Being in our bathroom is painful. I keep looking to the ledge, expecting to see her lying there, paw out, begging for attention. I keep listening for her insistent meow while I'm washing my face.
Even though we knew this was coming, it's just hard. She will always be my baby, and she definitely took a piece of me with her. But I wouldn't change a thing...
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