I posted an earlier thread about my baby cat dying in the middle of the night. I continue to be haunted by the fact that he died in a carrier on the way to the 24-hour emergency vet to get euthanized.
After I heard these terrible howls from him (the last sounds I’d hear from him) at 1:00 a.m. (I was, thankfully, still up), I ran to him and tried to console him. He was on the ground in his own urine, his pupils were dilated, his tongue was out and was no longer pink, and he was having difficulty breathing. I knew it was the end, and I had to get him to the 24-hour vet to get euthanized and die with dignity ASAP.
I put him in my bath towel, which had my scent, to comfort him. My husband was frantically dressing our newborn to take her with us. I suggested we take him to the vet in the towel. My husband insisted, quite assertively, that we take him in his carrier, since we didn’t know what state he was in. Could he thrash around in the car? Could he do something unexpected? He did not know. But I knew. I knew he was in his last minutes of life, and I knew I wanted to hold him in a towel in the car.
My husband brought the carrier down and said it was irresponsible to not put him in the carrier. I relented and put him in there. Once I put him in the carrier, he moved around a bit, hitting the sides of the carrier. I’m not sure if it was from knowing that he was in the carrier (his most hated place, and a space he associated with trips to the vet to treat his IBD) or from general disorientation. Regardless, it was pretty upsetting for me to witness.
The vet is less than 10 minutes away, but by the time we got there, my baby already died. He died in the car, in a carrier on my lap, while I was wailing in the car. He died in a space he was the most terrified of.
I’m so, so angry I listened to my husband instead of following my instincts of knowing that it would be best to just hold him in the car. I know my cat the best, so why didn’t I just override my husband’s suggestions? I am also incandescent with rage at my husband for not listening to me about transporting my baby in a towel on my lap.
I feel like I betrayed my cat. He lived a long, wonderful life full of love, and he died in a dreaded carrier. I’m so disturbed by what happened.
I don’t know what I’m seeking here. I know fellow cat lovers in the other thread suggested he died in peace and that all that mattered was that he heard me and smelled me. But I can’t get over failing my cat in his final minutes of life.
One of the saddest things on this site is reading people who’ve posted in search of solutions for their cat’s illnesses, and then finding subsequent posts about the cat they were posting about dying. I’m looking at the previous posts I’ve made about my baby’s IBD, and I will read this specific one with tears in my eyes in the future.
After I heard these terrible howls from him (the last sounds I’d hear from him) at 1:00 a.m. (I was, thankfully, still up), I ran to him and tried to console him. He was on the ground in his own urine, his pupils were dilated, his tongue was out and was no longer pink, and he was having difficulty breathing. I knew it was the end, and I had to get him to the 24-hour vet to get euthanized and die with dignity ASAP.
I put him in my bath towel, which had my scent, to comfort him. My husband was frantically dressing our newborn to take her with us. I suggested we take him to the vet in the towel. My husband insisted, quite assertively, that we take him in his carrier, since we didn’t know what state he was in. Could he thrash around in the car? Could he do something unexpected? He did not know. But I knew. I knew he was in his last minutes of life, and I knew I wanted to hold him in a towel in the car.
My husband brought the carrier down and said it was irresponsible to not put him in the carrier. I relented and put him in there. Once I put him in the carrier, he moved around a bit, hitting the sides of the carrier. I’m not sure if it was from knowing that he was in the carrier (his most hated place, and a space he associated with trips to the vet to treat his IBD) or from general disorientation. Regardless, it was pretty upsetting for me to witness.
The vet is less than 10 minutes away, but by the time we got there, my baby already died. He died in the car, in a carrier on my lap, while I was wailing in the car. He died in a space he was the most terrified of.
I’m so, so angry I listened to my husband instead of following my instincts of knowing that it would be best to just hold him in the car. I know my cat the best, so why didn’t I just override my husband’s suggestions? I am also incandescent with rage at my husband for not listening to me about transporting my baby in a towel on my lap.
I feel like I betrayed my cat. He lived a long, wonderful life full of love, and he died in a dreaded carrier. I’m so disturbed by what happened.
I don’t know what I’m seeking here. I know fellow cat lovers in the other thread suggested he died in peace and that all that mattered was that he heard me and smelled me. But I can’t get over failing my cat in his final minutes of life.
One of the saddest things on this site is reading people who’ve posted in search of solutions for their cat’s illnesses, and then finding subsequent posts about the cat they were posting about dying. I’m looking at the previous posts I’ve made about my baby’s IBD, and I will read this specific one with tears in my eyes in the future.
