I originally planned a Christmas outfit post for today, but when I sat down to write about how Christmas really went, sharing my outfit seemed pointless. I wish I could say Christmas in Pennsylvania was relaxing. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time with family and friends, but I also spent a large part of my time and emotional energy caring for my family’s cat during her last days.
We adopted Hannah from the local SPCA when I was 11-years-old. I picked her out because she was sitting a cage near a window, meowing. In short, I felt bad and wanted to bring her home. We brought her home to join Muffy, a calico cat my dad got me after I got my tonsils removed at age 7. Though she was laid back, she loved to explore the house. One time she managed climb into the ceiling of our toy closet and fell through, landing in a pile of stuffed animals.
When Hannah hit 15-years-old, her health started declining dramatically. She was on antibiotics for a bladder infection a few months ago, and I hoped she would recover. However at Christmas, it was clear she didn’t have much longer since her lung function was starting to fail. Since it had been more than a decade since I had seen a pet in such shape, I wasn’t quite sure what was happening so I googled “Signs your cat is dying.” I went down the list of signs, and sadly Hannah was showing most of them. In Hannah’s last days, I made peace with the fact that she didn’t have much longer. I spent a lot of time grooming her and letting her sit in my lap. I encouraged my family to spend time with her as well.
On the last morning I saw her alive, I woke her up and she let out two meows. She sat in my lap for some time as I groomed her. I let her go back to sleep and got ready to head back to Boston. Hannah passed away before I got a chance to say a proper goodbye for the last time, but I’d like to think she knew I loved her and cared for her the best I could.