What To Expect At The End Of Your Cat’s Life
[H]is pupils wildly dilating and contracting as you call his name over and over, telling him he is a good boy.
by Ly Faulk
You may notice that he hides from you. This will be your first sign that something is wrong. He will crawl into kitchen cabinets and lay amongst the empty shopping bags you keep tucked away to empty his litter box. When the time comes to take him to the vet for the first time, you will have to pull him out by his legs or the scruff of his neck. He won’t hold this against you.
Next, he’ll stop eating for several days and he will eventually stop drinking water as well. On your second trip to the vet, he will recommend that you syringe feed him food and water. To do this, wrap your cat in a towel as he suddenly finds the strength to claw at you.
He will become clumsy and have trouble finding his litter box. He won’t be able to groom himself after he pisses himself so you will have to mop up his urine and bathe him soapy paper towels so you don’t stress him out further. He may be so lethargic that you worry he would drown if you bathe him in water. You don’t mind cleaning up after him but it makes your heart ache to see his glorious fluffy fur wet and bedraggled.
He will vomit up his medicine, the food you syringe feed him, and even water. Consequently, he will lose massive amounts of weight. Where once he was your chunky boy, he will become bony and you will feel the bumps of his spine as you try to soothe him with gentle pets.
He may have decreased alertness, his pupils wildly dilating and contracting as you call his name over and over, telling him he is a good boy. You will call the vet but his answering service will tell you that he doesn’t take messages after ten. You are on your own.
At the very end, you will simply hold him as he goes completely limp. He will have a death rattle and possibly the most heart-wrenching yowls that will haunt you forever. His little legs will twitch and fight against the end with his last bit of strength. You will close his eyes and urge him to sleep but he will not go out like that. He is impossibly brave.
After it is over, you will lovingly wrap him in a towel for the last time. You will dig a small little grave for him in your backyard and toss brown wet soil on top of him under a gray, foggy November sky.
Ly Faulk (they/she) is the Editor-in-Chief of Eco Punk Literary. They are the author of several chapbooks and her latest, I Don’t Think I’d Make A Very Good Borg Drone, is available from Back Room Poetry. Learn more at https://lynnceefaulkcom.wordpress.com/
