In an hour, I will take my dearest little kitty, Gable, to the vet so he can cross the Rainbow Bridge. He has cancer and it has finally overtaken him. We have been together for 14 years, and he is special. I needed to post this in a place where my feelings were understood. I had some friends offer to go to the vet with me, but I refused because none of them really knew him or loved him. I don't want anything to ruin those last few moments with my boy.

I wrote this a few months back, and have updated it for today. Thanks for reading. Please send me hugs and thoughts of peace as I try to get through this.


June 15, 2004

Fourteen years ago, a very special friend came into my life. He was an emaciated, red tabby cat. Although he was declawed, his alcoholic owner was allowing him to live in an apartment complex parking lot. I loved him on first sight, and his name—Gable—was perfect. With his sweet personality, he quickly became an integral part of my life.
Now, his journey with me is ending, and I am having trouble accepting this part of the cycle of life. My eyes water when I think of not having him by my side as I face the rest of what will hopefully be a long life for me (I am 34 now).
Since yesterday, Gable’s fur looks rough and unkempt, and he no longer wants to be hugged. His breathing is more labored, and he doesn’t get up when he sees me. At the vet’s office, where I rushed him a few months ago in hopes that my worst fears would not be confirmed, he nuzzled the bars of the cage, seeking affection. It broke my heart and steeled my resolve to help him keep going as long as he comfortably could. He has had a strong will to live, and I could not stand in his way. But now, his eyes are distant and sunken, and I know it’s time.
I keep thinking that it’s not fair. I love him with all my heart. So why is it that we only get to have our pets for a miniscule portion of our lives? Why do they age so much faster than humans? It seems like a cruel joke of nature, to put these charming little creatures into our lives, allow them to steal our hearts and then take them away in what seems like the blink of an eye.
In our 14 years together, we’ve been through a lot of good and bad times together. I can’t count the nights I’ve spent holding and comforting him through illnesses. And he has nursed on my shirt thousands of times, a loving gesture to his “mother.”
When Gable first came to live with me, he was emaciated from chronic diarrhea. We got it under control with a drug, and he thrived. Years later, he began having problems, and I found out that his medication was derived from opium, which meant that my dear little boy was an opium addict. We got him out from under his addiction, and he once again thrived, the diarrhea now gone. Then he had an ear mite infection which turned into a nasty case of vertigo because of a reaction to medication. He spent an entire week unable to walk or stand up. Thankfully, it resolved itself, but afterward, his head always tilted to the side a little. Then, last year, I found a lump on his side. It was fibrosarcoma, the worst of all the cancers. It was removed through surgery, but returned three months later. The odds of beating it were slim, so I chose to let him live out his days in dignity and peace. But he turned out be diabetic, so the daily ritual of shots entered our lives. One day, my husband called me home because Gable was lying on the floor, convulsing. I rushed home, scooped him up, and flew to the vet’s office. It turned out that his blood sugar was 12, when it was supposed to be 120. They saved his life with only moments to spare. It was terrifying, but I was so relieved to have not lost my little boy. Now, it seems that the cancer has spread to his lungs, thus the labored breathing. With diuretics and bronchodilators, we have bought him two months. But now my little miracle boy has run out of miracles. It is time to let him go over the Bridge, and he will take a piece of my heart with him.
I have tried to cram a lifetime’s worth of love into the past 6 months, knowing this day was coming. I searched for anything that would make him happy…his favorite canned food….scratches under the chin….an open window. I know he knows that I love him, but I wonder if he knows just how much. Now I have to face those final moments with one of the dearest friends I’ve ever had. I dread the emptiness of the house when he is no longer here. I dread having to explain to my 2 1/2 –year-old daughter that Gable is gone. I struggle with how best to memorialize his life. But most of all, I dread the pain and grief that goes with the loss of love. If my love could keep him alive, he would be here forever. Unfortunately, it was not enough. But sweet little Gable, I hope you know that I tried.

Rhonda

Dear Rhonda,

I am so sorry that you have come to this day with your beloved Gable.

I do not know what to say other than I am sorry. The grief is unbearable, but, I am told that it does get eaiser.

My precious dog (age 9) was taken from me suddenly, without warning due to a previously undetected heart condition. I never even got to say goodbye. I know the heartbreak that you are feeling.

Perhaps it will help you to know that you are not alone in your grief. This site is filled with people whose hearts have been broken who are trying to get by.

It's been ten days for me. The grief is still overwhelming. But I try and survive knowing that my Luba would want me to carry on.

I wish your sweet Gable peace as he crosses over. To you, I offer sincere condolences.

Thank you. He went easily, for which I am grateful. But it was the most heart-wrenching thing I've ever done. The house seems so empty without him. I appreciate your kind words, and I'm sorry to hear that you're feeling this pain, too.

Rhonda

God Bless you & your family.

Your Gable, what a handsome boy!!!

He is at peace now, over Rainbow's Bridge -- where there is no pain.... just pure joy!!

The letter that you wrote was soooo heartfelt. Thank you for letting me read it.

Your beautiful Gable, he had a "tough time" here on Earth with illness, etc.

You did a very, very hard thing today..........but, it was the most loving thing you could have
even done.

You gave him a wonderful gift.
I know it hurts like hell, but someone on this site said to me, right after our Ernestine was put to sleep....

'YOU TOOK ON HER PAIN, SO THAT SHE COULD BE WITHOUT PAIN"......

And, yes.....I would do it again in a heartbeat.
She was soooo sick!! She is in a much happier place, and I know that we will be together again....

Know that you are in my thoughts.....
I'm just about to light my candle today, for all the furbabies who have just gone to Rainbow's Bridge.

We're all here for you... LS is the best "pet grief site".....

God Bless!

Love, Denise

Rhonda,

I'm so sorry!! What a lucky, lucky guy Gable was, to have you as a Mom. I cried as I read what you and he had been through together. You have been the best mother anyone could have. And I know you were lucky, too, to have him. And your relationship, though it's very different now that Gable is all soul while you're soul and body, goes on. Gable is not far away. And you'll be fully reunited---when it's your time. But for whatever reason it is that most animals' lifespans aren't anywhere near as long as ours, Gable does want you to live a full life---a happy one, with lots of love. Any other loves you may have in the future will not in any way take away from the sacred love you have for sweet Gable.

Oh, you had said, "I know he knows that I love him, but I wonder if he knows just how much." ...HE KNOWS.

In the meantime, Gable is experiencing just bliss. The hard part is for you---the grief. BUT you've come to the right place. You are among family here. We all really do understand what you're going through. The 1st couple of weeks following my Little Girl's passing, I spent most of my waking time each day here----hours on end. It was especially hard when I started leaving the house---because I was afraid of the gut-wrenching pain that would stab me when I walked through the door with no Little Girl to greet me! What you wrote, about not having Gable by your side as you face the rest of your life, really rings true for me, and it brought fresh tears to my eyes reading that. I had known that the day would come, but it's been 83 days and sometimes I'm still in disbelief that it's not "Little Girl and me against the world"... and yet it is. Her spirit's still here, and I've even gotten definite signs of that. Shortly I'll share those on this site.

Please come here often (or "move in" as I did!). We're all here for you.

Much love and support, and many hugs,

Kathy

p.s. Gable is absolutely adorable!!!!!! And huggable. Don't forget--you'll get to hug him again, I have no doubt.