Lyle ~ may your soul be free

Tags

adoption, animal advocate, CASPCA, cat, Central Virginia, how to let go, loss of a pet

This is Lyle at the shelter. Weighing in at fourteen pounds, he was a bushel of love.

This blog post is an homage to a fine, sweet, older kitty, Lyle.

Lyle was surrendered to the local CASPCA six months ago. He had been in the same home for eleven years. The owners had various reasons for letting him go, yet Lyle never really recovered from the separation. Despite daily attention from a devoted feline volunteer, Lyle remained shy, fearful, and distant, making adoption difficult in a facility filled with bouncing, adorable kittens.

It’s been nearly four years since my beloved Miss Kitty departed this life and I finally felt ready to welcome a special kitty into my heart. After filling out his paperwork on Friday, I asked Lyle if he approved. He looked me in the eyes and reached out one paw and began kneading his pillow. I took that as a YES!
Lyle was vetted on Monday, where a new heart condition was discovered. This did not dissuade me in any way. The shelter thought we were a perfect match, and with high hopes, I brought him home on Tuesday.

The ride to Swallowtail Cottage was peaceful. The sunny winter afternoon was brilliant. Lyle made eye contact with me many times from his carrier, sunlight reflecting from his soulful, golden eyes. He even seemed to enjoy the view of the passing landscape. I assured him we would have a good life together. He would have a second chance at love.

Within minutes of arrival, Lyle began choking and gasping. Numerous calls to his vet assured me this was stress related, and I should leave him to quiet. Within thirty minutes he was dead — DEAD!!

Post mortem revealed Lyle died of heart failure. A heart broken from rejection? A heart longing to be loved too long? A heart not strong enough to accept new love?

I shall never know.

The house is again quiet — in its winter mode. I wrestle with many emotions, yet have the highest respect for those dedicated shelter volunteers and skilled professionals, who have the emotional stamina to deal with rejected animals every day. To all of them, thank you. And to all who adopt from shelters and rescue facilities, hugs to you.

For those guardians who dump/discard family pets when they age, shame on you! 

Today if you have the chance, please send up a little word for Lyle to finally find peace and unconditional love.

Photo of Lyle courtesy of the Charlottesville Albemarle SPCA.

Copyright © 2015 by Diane LaSauce All Rights Reserved

Witness ~ Ode to Cotton

Tags

Cotton the Cat, death of a feline, pain of loss, road kill, those who fail to love enough

He is gone. I pleaded with the people who fed him to keep him safe. He visited me daily, as my place is a safe-haven for critters. Just last week I had a heated discussion with the family about allowing him to endlessly roam. They said he was “street smart” because he crossed large highways in Richmond — this family has now lost three cats and one dog to this road. They clearly do not get the message…

Numerous times I saw Cotton across the rural road near my house. Numerous near misses. Dozens of times I carried him home and poked him in his front door. Yesterday was his last outing.

As I left my driveway I saw Cotton once again walking along the narrow shoulder of the busy road. I stopped, hoping that he would again cross over safely. As he attempted so, a red car came speeding out of nowhere and Cotton disappeared from view under the car. I watched as he ran from under the car about 25 yards then leap under my row of cypress trees. I thought for a split-second that he resembled a cork in the ocean, invincible — to rise unharmed from this event.

I sprinted to the house and found his people home. We looked and called for Cotton, who began crying desperate cries from the culvert under my driveway. He was injured yet we could not reach him. Someone ran for a flashlight, another for a pole, while I spoke to Cotton in quiet tones. I once heard his collar bell ring, as perhaps he attempted to come to me. He was in agony. His nine lives were expiring.

Later that day, the family’s message on my voice-mail stated that Cotton had died [a painful, slow death — nearly an hour] as son and mother attempted to retrieve him from the pipe. He hemorrhaged to death…a cruel end for a truly unique feline who was barely past one-year old. One family member dismissed him as “just a stray from Richmond”.

These misguided people thanked me for my caring on my voice mail [“we did the best we could for him”], yet no amount of thanks can rectify this reality. This noble, elegant creature is gone.

There should be protections against this kind of perverse human mentality, and certainly animals of any kind should be disallowed in that household! Protection is the number one priority of animal guardianship. If one does not “have the time” to provide security, then innocent, living creatures should be left to those who will.

The following photos are ones taken in my home, during happier days this winter. Cotton did not deserve this end and I did not need to witness his final blow. Yet had I not, perhaps he would have died alone, and would still be in the wet pipe.

Cotton on a happier day. I really fell for him..

Cotton liked to come over and nap at my cottage. What a nice guy…

If you follow this blog, I recently scribed the thing about energy https://dianelasauce.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/the-thing-about-energy/. Was this image an omen?

I weep today as the snow falls in heavy wet crystals.

I could have intervened more fervently.

Life is a balancing act…

Remember to slide your mouse over the images for further description…and please send good wishes into the heavens today for Cotton — and value your critters more than ever.

Copyright © 2012 by Diane LaSauce All Rights Reserved

the thing about profound loss

Tags

cat, death of a pet, loss, poetry, profound loss

Thursday of this week, I had no options for my beloved kitty of the past eleven years. Sometime last year a silent cancer (fibrosarcoma) manifested in her mouth and only eight weeks ago, did she show visible symptoms.

Miss Kitty had the heart of a lion, and persevered during her last two weeks with the aid of opiates and in-home vet care. With the ultimate responsibility resting on my shoulders, decisions weighed heavily. Our last ten days together were spent doing all Miss Kitty’s favorite things-sunbathing in the newly mowed grass, hiding amongst the tall patch of tiger lilies, playing hide and seek, presenting her toy mouse to me many times per day, and quality naps on the heating pad. Even her appetite improved the final week, making my choice even more difficult.

quality nap time during happier days

With steady hand, we traveled to our vet for a sedated exam and a possible dentistry. My hopes were high, as recovery had not yet been ruled out. Fate quickly intervened as her vet showed me an image of her upper gum line, an image too gruesome for words. Extraordinary surgery was offered, yet with no chance of a full recovery, and painful post-op, we mutually decided euthanasia was the kindest alternative.

my best friend and editor…Miss Kitty

My final words were spoken to my love, companion, my angel, my muse as the fatal dose was administered and she peacefully slipped away. Carefully wrapped in a towel placed in her favorite bed, we returned home. Saying my final goodbye before closing the box was not as difficult as returning to the house alone, now devoid of my significant other. Working from home this past decade allowed the opportunity for us to fully bond with connections that ran deep. I wanted to run and never return.

Miss Kitty will be privately cremated and return home to rest in a soapstone urn, carved with Celtic symbols, given to us by her godmother.

Friday I could not speak without sobbing and wailing, and could find no comfort in daily life. Finally, a phone call from a blessed friend assured me that “gratitude is greater than grief” and Miss Kitty’s message to me was to think of her as a “voluptuous being” who chose me (“Damn right, I did!”) and to know that beneath the horrible pain of loss rests the eternal love we shared for over a decade.

“Sweet is the breath of vernal shower.
The bee’s collected treasures sweet.
Sweet music’s melting fall, but sweeter yet:
The still small voice of gratitude.”
~Thomas Gray

Copyright © 2011 by Diane LaSauce All Rights Reserved