Thursday, May 7, 2009
I am laying on the livingroom floor beside Molly. She doesn't want to be alone, although she has never been one to complain or demand, today has been a quiet exception.
One day short of 2 weeks ago I took Moly into the vet because of a slight limp & swollen front leg. Seeing that she could move it, it didn't appear to be anything we needed to be concerned about, however at a casual mention of her gums being quite pallor, Dr. Tim decided to take some blood & run preliminary tests. Anemia was the result, but the question was why. Further blood tests revealed the likelihood of a tumour. Only 10 days ago we were given the news. A timeline was almost impossible to predict. It could be months, it could be days.
She was fortunate to have a healthy base to go from & a strong & happy outlook to carry her through. Naturally, not knowing what the heck is going on inside her body does have it's advantages. Molly didn't become increasingly weak, & her swollen paw (which ended up to be adema, poor ciirculation basically) returned to it's normal size. She enjoyed her usual lay daily routine & for about a week, we chose to be completely oblivious.
The morning MilkBone was the first to get the nix & then the canned dog food I'd had her on for the past year. She nibbled all day on kibble instead, but ate just the same & to her eating didn't seem important anyhow. Laying in her favourite spots out in the yard visiting with Sadie & Charlie, keeping a helpful eye beside me while I tended to my gardens & barking at the hawks who floated overhead were filling her days in the warmth of the springtime days.
And that is how we watched our Molly live. Her smiling face, & tail going strong while visiting neighbours. Everyone who knew Molly, or even just had the pleasure of spending a few minutes with her loved her. She liked every person & every cat she ever met.
And now, I'm afraid, we will watch our Molly die. Dr. Tim is coming to the house in a short while. He will inject a sedative for her to slowly fall into a deep slumber, & once she's there, another drug will stop her loving heart.
Yet I know her heart won't stop loving. That's the way Molly touched us all; drawing out the most tender spot in each of us. We all carried on conversations with her, we all shared secrets & laughed when we were alone with her. Each day Molly received the most fervent 'Good Morning', was kept abreast of the itinerary ("I won't be long...) & every single night, between the time of her pre-bedtime nap & the big settledown, Molly & Mandy (the cat) & I would lie on the floor together; chat & scratch heads & end the day with a hug.
Somehow, Molly just made life easy. And now I'm counting on my mulititude of memories with her to carry me through. She's wishing that for all of us, that's just the way that Molly is.
Thursday, May 7, 2009