I'm always sad on the anniversary of the day my mother died, so when Stella phoned to tell me her cat was failing, it's not as if her news wrecked an otherwise fabulous afternoon. Cancer had taken my mother at age 57 on April 27, 1979. She was not ready to die and, at 24, I was not ready to lose her. Since then, April 27th has been a tough day for me.
"Is there any chance you could drive us to the animal hospital?" Stella asked. "I'll be right there," I said. Stella adored her dear little grey cat. I loved sweet-natured Fluffy too; I usually took care of her when Stella traveled. Stella had gone so far as to change her will to provide that if she died on her travels, Fuffy would go to me, along with a generous stipend for kibble and catnip. "It gives me peace of mind to know she'll be in good hands," she explained. That seemed a bit over the top, but when I told my friends Julie and Rob about it, they promptly changed their wills, leaving me all seven of their cats. My own will makes no provision for pets. I don't know if this means I'm less quirky than my friends, or less responsible.
When I pulled up, Stella, looking devastated, emerged from her house with Fluffy in her arms. We wept all the way to the animal hospital, reminiscing about Fluffy's happier days. Yes, we were a cliché -- a couple of senior librarians in tears over an elderly cat. But loss hurts, whether you're losing your mother, your best friend or "merely" a beloved feline. Fluffy rested quietly in Stella's arms. "She hasn't eaten for three days," Stella said. "She's suffering. I knew it was time."
The receptionist at the animal hospital, probably all too familiar with the arrival of the weeping owners of dying cats, quickly took us to a small examining room.
I'd never actually seen a cat put to death. Two years ago, Louisa, my elderly cat, quietly crept behind the washing machine and gave up the ghost. Even as I struggled to extricate her lifeless body from that cramped space, I silently thanked her. I'd been dreading our final trip to the vet.
A technician briefly described the upcoming procedure, then took Fluffy to another room, returning her to us moments later with a small tube in one leg. "Do you want her ashes?" the technician asked. (This seemed rather tactless with Fluffy still right there.)
Stella, in tears, shook her head no.
When the vet came in, Stella said, "This must be the worst part of your job."
"It's tough," he agreed. Kneeling, he drew back the towel Fluffy was wrapped in, found the small tube, then quietly injected a drug to sedate her. "It's the same drug they give you when you get a colonoscopy," he told us. (I remember that drug! It turned the world into an extremely pleasant place -- I'd even joked, at the time, that a colonoscopy was a small price to pay for such a delightful sensation.)
Soon Fluffy's eyes closed. The vet injected the final drug, then took out his stethoscope and listened. "Her heart has stopped," he said. He took Fluffy's body from Stella, placed her on the examining table, wrapped the towel around her and carried her from the room. "Thank you," Stella whispered as he left.
I'd never actually witnessed the moment of death. I took care of my mother round the clock throughout her long illness, but when the moment finally came, I fled. She was in a coma so I didn't have to be there for her, and I couldn't bear to see it.
Mom's slow, painful death was a horrible ordeal. When my time comes, I want to go like Fluffy. Quickly. Painlessly. In the arms of a loved one. High as a kite. But you can't elect to be gently put to death in Pennsylvania. Since I'm a person, rather than a beloved family pet, a painless death with dignity is not something I'm entitled to. I'll just have to take my chances.
"Thanks for doing this," Stella said when I dropped her back home.
"I'm glad I could," I said. I would have been sad that afternoon anyway. At least I could be there for Stella. When life takes a turn for the worse, being of comfort, or just being company, is sometimes all you can do.
Our 2024 Coverage Needs You
It's Another Trump-Biden Showdown — And We Need Your Help
The Future Of Democracy Is At Stake
Our 2024 Coverage Needs You
Your Loyalty Means The World To Us
As Americans head to the polls in 2024, the very future of our country is at stake. At HuffPost, we believe that a free press is critical to creating well-informed voters. That's why our journalism is free for everyone, even though other newsrooms retreat behind expensive paywalls.
Our journalists will continue to cover the twists and turns during this historic presidential election. With your help, we'll bring you hard-hitting investigations, well-researched analysis and timely takes you can't find elsewhere. Reporting in this current political climate is a responsibility we do not take lightly, and we thank you for your support.
Contribute as little as $2 to keep our news free for all.
Can't afford to donate? Support HuffPost by creating a free account and log in while you read.
The 2024 election is heating up, and women's rights, health care, voting rights, and the very future of democracy are all at stake. Donald Trump will face Joe Biden in the most consequential vote of our time. And HuffPost will be there, covering every twist and turn. America's future hangs in the balance. Would you consider contributing to support our journalism and keep it free for all during this critical season?
HuffPost believes news should be accessible to everyone, regardless of their ability to pay for it. We rely on readers like you to help fund our work. Any contribution you can make — even as little as $2 — goes directly toward supporting the impactful journalism that we will continue to produce this year. Thank you for being part of our story.
Can't afford to donate? Support HuffPost by creating a free account and log in while you read.
It's official: Donald Trump will face Joe Biden this fall in the presidential election. As we face the most consequential presidential election of our time, HuffPost is committed to bringing you up-to-date, accurate news about the 2024 race. While other outlets have retreated behind paywalls, you can trust our news will stay free.
But we can't do it without your help. Reader funding is one of the key ways we support our newsroom. Would you consider making a donation to help fund our news during this critical time? Your contributions are vital to supporting a free press.
Contribute as little as $2 to keep our journalism free and accessible to all.
Can't afford to donate? Support HuffPost by creating a free account and log in while you read.
As Americans head to the polls in 2024, the very future of our country is at stake. At HuffPost, we believe that a free press is critical to creating well-informed voters. That's why our journalism is free for everyone, even though other newsrooms retreat behind expensive paywalls.
Our journalists will continue to cover the twists and turns during this historic presidential election. With your help, we'll bring you hard-hitting investigations, well-researched analysis and timely takes you can't find elsewhere. Reporting in this current political climate is a responsibility we do not take lightly, and we thank you for your support.
Contribute as little as $2 to keep our news free for all.
Can't afford to donate? Support HuffPost by creating a free account and log in while you read.
Dear HuffPost Reader
Thank you for your past contribution to HuffPost. We are sincerely grateful for readers like you who help us ensure that we can keep our journalism free for everyone.
The stakes are high this year, and our 2024 coverage could use continued support. Would you consider becoming a regular HuffPost contributor?
Dear HuffPost Reader
Thank you for your past contribution to HuffPost. We are sincerely grateful for readers like you who help us ensure that we can keep our journalism free for everyone.
The stakes are high this year, and our 2024 coverage could use continued support. If circumstances have changed since you last contributed, we hope you'll consider contributing to HuffPost once more.
Support HuffPostAlready contributed? Log in to hide these messages.