It has been two weeks since our Galena passed. She was not old, or sick, simply a creature caught in a series of tragic misfortunes.
I was working in a shelter when I first saw her. She was a 4-year-old, silver Persian mix. It was her fourth time in our shelter and she was not taking it well. Her huge golden eyes were perpetually opened in fear and she cowered in the back of her kennel. Her history was not promising either. She had been returned for fear issues, house soiling. It was my job to determine which animals were candidates for adoption and she was not a cat that most people would want. But I am not most people, and I can't resist an animal in need. I talked to my supervisor and took her home that day.
In truth, she was not what you would call a good cat. It took six months for her to venture out from under the bed except in pitch darkness. It was another six months before we could pet and handle her without scaring her off. She and our resident cat did not mesh well, and soon both of them were house soiling. On everything. We had to replace several pieces of furniture. She was horrible about personal cleanliness and needed regular grooming to keep from becoming a matted mess. Once she became more comfortable in the house, she bullied our other cat out of choice sleeping spots and simply for the enjoyment (it seemed). In the four years that we had her, there were many times that I wanted to strangle her. But she left a hole that I have never before experienced with the death of a pet.
We had gone on vacation. We had a sitter coming over to watch the creatures. He had watched the animals before and knew her fear of strangers, especially strange men. He was not concerned that he had not seen her in a few days, as she didn't seek out his companionship. When we got home, we discovered that she had gotten locked into the bedroom. Although it had an attached bathroom, the toilet lid was down. She was without food or water for several days. She was still alive when we got home and we rushed her to the vet. She was put on fluids and seemed to be improving.
It was false hope. Twelve hours after we arrived at the clinic, she was gone. We brought her home, buried her in a grove of aspens. I carved her name into a rock with a nail, made her a headstone.
I am haunted by two things. The first is the first image I had of her when we found her. My husband had found her first and called me up to the bedroom. She was just lying there, struggling to breathe, but when she saw me, she lifted her head and meowed. I am sure there are many ways to interpret that action, and I am sure I have gone through them all. However, that image still comes unbidden. I am having a hard time entering the bathroom where we found her without thinking about it. I sobbed in the bathtub for several minutes last night because she was found underneath it.
The second is probably more a figment of my imagination, but it still bothers me. Galena never liked going to the vet, not because of the shots per se, but I think because the clinic made her think of the shelter and getting abandoned once again. She always seemed shocked to find herself back at home. I keep thinking about the fact that she died at the vet, without us there. That maybe she thought she had been abandoned once again.
I have mostly gotten past the blame part. In truth, we never blamed the sitter. We blamed ourselves, for leaving the window open, for not thinking that the door might be a problem, for closing the toilet lid. But we have moved on from that. My husband probably doesn't have the same thoughts that I do, and I think he is more worried about me at this point. But I feel like I have stalled. I can function, and at times can put it out of my mind, but those two thoughts keep coming back. How do you move past something so sudden? Is there a better way to move forward than just waiting it out? How did you get over the sudden, unexpected death of a pet?
Click to view attachment