Monday, September 14, 2020

Bye-bye, Butterscotch

It's over. 

Mom and I just got home from the vet. We made that difficult decision to have Butterscotch euthanized. He's now in the backyard in a cardboard box, and we're going to call a neighbor to come help us dig a grave.

As hard as it was to do it, I'm glad we did it. 

Butterscotch was in such awful shape, and this very morning, my conscience got the better of me. The way he dragged himself around the house, the awkward way he moved about when he tried to lie on my bed, the sound of his meow...I couldn't stand it. 

So, we swallowed our pride and picked up the phone.

The first vet we called could only schedule him for October 23, but from what she heard about our cat, she said she wouldn't recommend waiting that long. So, she referred us to another vet in town that's actually a lot closer, just a couple of blocks from home.

Due to COVID-19, they could only do curbside service but they were able to take him in right away. Then we kept in touch through our phones.

From what they said, Butterscotch was "a real sick old dude." His nervous system wasn't working correctly, which explained the awkwardness of his back legs. He was seriously underweight, his blood pressure was low, he was very old (16 years), and overall, not much else could be done for him; the few options we did have would have cost us hundreds of dollars. Even then, that would have only guaranteed him a few more years, most likely with a great deal of pain.

Even if money was no object, we knew it wouldn't be right to prolong the poor guy's misery any longer, not if we could help it.

So, we gave our permission for the euthanasia, which came to a little more than a hundred dollars. Easily affordable.

The house is loads quieter and emptier already. My bed feels bigger. I keep turning my head, expecting to see him curled up right there. I won't look at chicken or butterscotch candy the same way again. We might give the rest of his cat food to someone else.

I miss him...and yet I feel a bit better, too. My conscience has been eased; he's not sick or hurting anymore, the guy who brought him out told us we did the right thing, and we have to laugh at the idea of Butterscotch meeting Dad in heaven, since they weren't each other's favorite person.

Don't give Dad too much trouble up there, Butterball. Make sure you play nicely with Lucky and Boo-Boo, too.









































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