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"The most effectual means of being secure against pain is to retire within ourselves and to suffice for our own happiness."


"The torment of mind I endure till the moment shall arrive when I shall owe not a shilling on earth is such really to render life of little value."

Thomas Jefferson

Lakota

I pray to god Lakota was not in any pain.

Especially when I was with her. It was my job to comfort her. It breaks my heart to think how confused and frightened she must have been. It would kill me to know that she was in pain.

I wish I could have held her in my arms for 1 hour and 10 minutes. But she wouldn't let me. She never let me hold her. She did not like to be picked up.

I tried over the years. I'm a guy who needs hugs and kisses. My love is intimate. I tried every once in a while. I would pick her up and she would immediately squirm to get down.

If there was ever a time when she needed to be held it was Friday morning. And I couldn't do it.

I pray to god that whatever happened to her happened shortly before I found her. I cannot bear to think she was like that for hours. Scared, confused and just waiting for someone to help her. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that.

I hate closing the bathroom door. It kills me. I hate walking by her box. I sit in my recliner and glance over at the box over and over again. When she was in there I could see her. I used to look over at her and wait happily for her to walk over and climb up into my lap. The box has got to go. I hate putting down one bowl of food.

Sadness sits in my stomach like a piece of lead. It has not gone away.

My brain is at war with my heart. Yesterday I went out to do errands. Carol went out too. I beat Carol home. Maka came to greet me. Lakota did not. My brain does not accept the fact that she is gone. I glance around expecting to see her.

My heart tells me the truth.

I know I will get past this. I have in the past. But it doesn't feel right to think that I will get past this. She meant so much to me. I don't ever want to forget her. I don't ever want her out of my heart.

I don't want to love Maka with sadness oozing out of me. I pet her with tears in my eyes. I hold her with tears in my eyes. Maka loves to be held, thank god. But I don't want her to feel my sadness and I know she does. She is an animal. Animals get everything. I don't want her to associate sadness with me and her.

I love Maka deeply. I have loved all my pets deeply. That is how I love. Lakota was my sweetheart, my pretty girl. That's what I always called her. Sweetheart. Pretty girl. But I love Maka with all my heart too. She brings me enormous joy.

I want to believe she is sad too. I think she misses Lakota.

Maka has been in my lap most of yesterday and all day today. Thank god.

I hate the fact that tomorrow is Monday. I do not want to return to routine. I am not going to get over this quickly. Friday at work was brutal. I could not concentrate. Tears came to my eyes over and over. It felt so wrong to be working a meaningless job after a precious life had been taken away from me.

Sadness sits in my stomach like a piece of lead.

Lakota

I went to bed at 10:00 Thursday night.

Lakota was sleeping in my lap. I woke her up gently, petting her, kissing her head, talking to her. I always wake Lakota and Maka up gently. I never want to be their rude alarm clock.

Lakota jumped down and strolled into the kitchen because she knew she was about to get a snack. Maka followed. I gave them fresh cold water (which they love) and snacks. Went to bed.

Everything changed on Friday morning.

I got up at 5:30, went downstairs at 5:45. Lakota was not in her box in the kitchen. Other than my lap, her two favorite winter locations are the box (it sits on a heating vent) and underneath the bed in the spare room (there is a heating vent there).

She is always in the box in the morning and eagerly walks out of it when she sees me. On the rare occasions she is not there I worry a little bit.

I walked into the living room to see if she was on the couch. She was not. But Maka walked into the spare room and came out again 5 seconds later. I thought that was odd; she never does that. My antennae were partially up. But it was 5:45.

I reluctantly gave Maka snacks without Lakota.

 Went back upstairs at 6:00 to get dressed. Came down, grabbed my keys to start my car, which I always do on cold mornings. As I walked towards the French doors Maka walked into the spare room and came out again in 5 seconds. My antennae were all the way up.

I walked in. Lakota was on top of the bed in a very uncomfortable position. I immediately knew something was very wrong. I went to her, kissed her, petted her - she barely raised her head.

Lakota never sleeps on top of that bed. I think she was there to make sure we found her. If she was under the bed it would have been quite a while before we knew something was wrong.

I think Maka deliberately let me know something was wrong.

I looked away to slide the exercise bike over to make room for me to sit with her. She tried to get down but fell off the bed.

That split my heart in two.

I realized she couldn't walk, couldn't stand up. Her front paws worked but not the back. I picked her up, I held her, but she kept struggling. Eventually I laid her on the floor, continuously kissing and petting her and talking to her.

I walked out of the room to get my cell phone to call the vet. I was gone 10 seconds. When I came back in she had clawed her way back onto the bed with just her front paws.

I called the vet at 6:30 and convinced her to come in to the office at 7:30 when the office opened; she wasn't scheduled until 8:30.

At one point when she struggled on the bed again I moved her to the floor. A couple of times she dug her claws into the rug and turned herself around. Such a fighter.

I sat with Lakota from 6:15 to 7:25. At 6:45 I called Carol on my cell phone to wake her up and tell her what was going on - I was not going to leave Lakota alone for 1 more second.

At 7:25 we wrapped Lakota up in a towel and I held her in my arms. Carol drove. I was able to hold her in my arms, kiss her head and talk to her.

She was very calm. She was alert but quiet.

At the vets, when we put her on the table in the towel she literally curled up like she was going to sleep. She purred a little bit.

She was telling us that she was done. She was not in pain as far as the vet could tell, she was not struggling. She was just ready to go.

Every time I put my hand on her she closed her eyes. Lakota was my cat.

The absence is the killer. She is just not here anymore. Her absence fills this house with a crushing weight. She lived here for twenty years. Twenty amazing years.

I keep expecting to see her walk out of the spare room and stroll to the water bowl or food bowl and then into her box. She used to do that all the time. Many times a night.

Every night when she was done wandering she would climb into my lap. She couldn't jump onto the recliner like Maka so she climbed onto the chair to my right, walked across the end table and climbed up onto my chest.

Literally climbed up onto my chest. She would walk up and put her face right in my face. I kissed her. I talked to her. She loved it when I stroked both sides of her face at once.

Then most of the time she would just sit on my chest. Just sit there. If I had a drink I couldn't drink it. If I had food I couldn't eat it. I had to look around her to see the TV.

Just this week, as she sat on my chest, I told Carol that sometimes I was tempted to shove her aside, but I had no idea how many more times this would happen.

Truthfully there were times that I moved her but not many.

Eventually she would curl up on my left thigh, lean against the arm of the recliner, and go to sleep. Maybe my most precious moments with her.

She used to climb up on my chest when I was sleeping in bed and put her paw on my chin. Say "Hey - give me some attention." She used to crawl up on my side and sleep there.

None of these things are ever going to happen again. I want them to with all my heart but it will not come to pass.

I got up to go to the bathroom last night like I do every morning around 3 or 4. I would always leave the door open 6 inches or so in case Lakota was around and needed to get in. If the door was closed she would just sit outside it and meow.

Last night I closed the door. And cried.

This morning I put down one bowl of food. For Maka. And I totally lost it.

Yesterday Carol and I both left for work around 9:30 after taking just a little time to recover from Lakota. I drove around at lunchtime because I was not hungry. I cried a lot. I cried in the parking lot when I left. I cried when I got back.

I am not handling this well.

I am an angry, bitter man. Unhappy most of the time. Whiskey is an artificial solution that I lean on too much.

Lakota was a real solution.

I am also a sensitive, emotional man and Lakota brought that out in me. Every day. EVERY day.

That was medicine for me. It keeps me alive.

I miss her with all my heart. All my soul. All my sensitivity. All my love.

My heart is broken. She was the pet I loved the most. We connected. She loved me too.

I have pictures in my mind from Friday that won't go away. The way I found her. Sitting with her for over an hour. Holding her in the towel as we drove to the vet. She was so calm, so trusting.

Talking to her on the vets table. Kissing her. Noticing that she closed her eyes when I touched her.

She was precious to me and to this family.

Twenty years is a long run for a pet.

We were so lucky to have her.