I’ve not posted in over a month; this is all new to me! I would sit down to post, and then the self-doubt would rise and I’d think, ‘i really don’t think anyone will want to read what I have to say or think’.  And, I’d listen to that inner voice and stop.

Today, I was scrolling through Pinterest and a picture of a cat showed up that looked so much like my sweet little Locket, that I caught my breath! And all the guilt about her last few weeks came flooding over me.  Was I really a good cat/pet parent?

A little over a year ago, she was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, and that required a once a day pill. Now Locket was the sweetest, most loving and charming of my cats. She had been with me longer than any of the others and we had a special bond. She was always at my side; all I had to do was sit in the chair and tell her I had her ‘pillow’ and she would come running and jump up and get comfortable. She slept curled up next to me at night. She helped me through a master’s program and through a doctoral program. (well, the other cats did their share too!). She learned a sweet little trick or two; her specialty was ‘the sexy leg’. When she was young, I taught her how to stretch when I stretched; eventually, she would stretch when I asked her to. And then, I changed it to ‘Locket, show me your sexy leg’.  She would stretch……so far and her left leg would be stretched behind her! I have a short video (of bad quality) of her doing this! She could also ‘sit’; and then sit-up to beg. Smart little lady!

I had to start giving her a pill; every morning, and she hated it. She would fight and squirm to get away. I tried wrapping her in a towel; that didn’t work. (keep in mind, that I had to do this and then go to work too). Hid the pill in cheese (2 times and she refused); used the pill pockets (spit them out); use some special taste gummy stuff and she sniffed it once, and ran away. I ended up putting her in my lap and then picking her up by the scruff of the neck (while she was sitting on my lap). This is how a mama-cat picks up a kitten and it makes a kitten go limp so mama can carry it. I would pry open her mouth, put the tiny pill in the back of her throat, close her mouth and then blow in her face and gently stroke her throat to get her to swallow. That worked a few days and I was beginning to feel that we would be able to get her disease under control.  One morning, I walked away, and then turned around to do something, and the smart little thing, SPIT the pill out. She had learned how to pocket the pill in her cheek!

Eventually, she began to run from me whenever I came near her; she was scared of me. Scared that I was going to trap her, manhandle her and force a bitter-tasting pill down her throat. I missed us; I missed her purrs, her cuddles, and her soft fur. She no longer ran to the chair or sofa when I sat down. She started watching me with suspicious, accusatory, sad eyes. I had lost the trust of my longtime friend. I was miserable and I feel she was too. So I stopped.

Our love was renewed; we began to spend time together and she would do her special little dance for me when I asked!

At a checkup, of course her disease was still aggressive and not being controlled. So my vet suggested we try to put a cream-compound on her ears. Twice a day. So, I went to putting cream on her ears. Took about 1 week, and she started running from me and hiding.  Again, the trust was gone.

So I stopped; I decided that she was 16 years old, and if she didn’t want the medicine (which was supposed to suppress her thyroid); then by golly she didn’t have to take it. The process of medicating her stressed her I think more than living with the disease. So we eased into a gentle day-to-day existence, where we were again friends.

Now this brings me to my guilt. About 2 weeks before I ended up taking her to the animal ER, she got even more clingy. She was a cuddler, but never clingy. Now, she would constantly rub on me, use her claws and make tons of biscuits (that kneading motion that mimics how baby kittens get milk from mom). No matter where I was, there was Locket. And, I have to admit, a few times it got to be just too much Locket. Too much rubbing, too much claw pinpricks. (I have fibromyalgia and sometimes too much stimulation on my skin, drives me over the top). I would pick her up out of my lap and move her to the floor. I would move her away from me on the sofa. ‘Lockie, please honey, give me some space’

She continued to eat, drink and toilet. But the minute she stopped eating, I knew she was in bad shape. And so to the ER we went.

Was I a bad pet-parent? Should I have forced her to let me put that medicine on her ears no matter what? She would run and hide under the bed, under the sofa and she was so scared of me. My heart would break when she ran…and hid from me. My heart breaks now over her; I miss her and find myself calling her for supper. I look in the corner where she liked to sleep and expect to see her there.

I still have my other four cats…and one is 17 years old. I figure she won’t be here too many more years. So trying to prepare myself for that. I thought I had prepared myself for losing Locket; but you’re never prepared.

RIP Locket. I hope I didn’t fail you.

emme