By Marla Lindstrom Benroth
This column is dedicated to all those who have loved and lost a pet.
And to those who are right now in the midst of trauma with dear furry family members who have cancer, kidney diseaseand any other kind of illness. If there isn’t a miraculous intervention, you will lose him.
Many of you don’t feel like you can talk to others much about this deep grief that fills your heart and soul. They may look at you with attempted sympathy, but you sense they may be patronizing: You can always get another one. But you are thinking inside, there is no other Tiger or Patches. For some of you, your pets are like children to you. And the grief floods you as you think about all the wonderful, crazy fun, comforting times you’ve had together – and that it will never be the same without him.
I know your pain. I have two Tuxedo Twin black-and-white kitties, Tymphany (11) and Brittany (10), and one is very sick. As I write this column, he’s anemic and not eating on his own. It looks like his time is almost here.
The Benroth Tuxedo Twins
on the Double Decker Chair:
Brittany (top) and Tymphany (bottom)
Enjoying and Loving Our Furry Friends
The Tux Twins moved with me without complaint every time I rented a new apartment when I was single. When I got lonely, Brittany would jump into my lap, purring loudly. And after marrying Chet and settling in a new home, they immediately determined the back yard of our new home – with its taunting squirrels and singing birds – and the entire inside of the home was their kingdom and we were here at their command.
When Chet and I traveled, I’d drive the kitties to the “Grandkittyparents” in Boulder while we were gone. Tymp would jump onto my shoulders in the car (don’t tell anyone), curl around my neck watching the mountainous landscape pass by and purr. He’d rub his face against me, squirming with excitement as I parked my Prussian Red SUV, eager to jump to the sidewalk and run up the stairs.
And at home while showering, I’d suddenly feel a presence in the room. When I opened the tinted glass door, there Tymphany was, sitting on the toilet, blinking happily at me.
Yes, I understand how you must feel when, perhaps out of the blue, your sweet furry friend gets sick. Or develops a lump. Or gets hit by a car and it is bad. Whether he is young or old, it doesn’t matter. It hurts your heart. When he is young, you think of all the years you want to have with him. When he is old, you remember the many years you’ve had.
And often, it is very, very hard to let go.
We have been valiantly and vigilantly fighting kidney disease with Tymphany for five months. He was losing weight and drinking a lot of water when I took him to the vet in September and got the confirming blood work. It was not a beginning stage. Kidney disease is a top killer for cats. It can creep up insidiously and as the kidneys fail, other body functions begin to fall apart, such as the ability to make red blood cells, so they can become anemic. And they develop problems with heart, lungs, digestionand wound healing.
The Road You Don’t Want to Travel
So we turned down a difficult road. It was not a road I wanted to go down. I really wanted to take the fork that took us upward into the clouds, where he would be miraculously healed and we’d m
ove on happily with our lives. I pictured there would be always be two of them, cuddling together on the couch, or spatting in the middle of the night and leaving black-and-white fluffs of fur on my just-vacuumed living room floor, or riding to Nana & Grandpa’s together… My mind didn’t even comprehend a scenario where one would leave all of us behind.
When reality about his situation sunk in – and that took a while - I felt regret. Pain. Why didn’t I take them to the vet sooner and get that blood work? What decisions do I make on a day—to-day basis to help him? Will he stabilize and be with us for years to come, like a few rare and happy owners have experienced?
Finding the Rainbow in the Rain
Some of you know about the roller coaster ride where you try to do everything you can in the midst of a demanding schedule. Chet and I began giving Tymp daily subQs (subcutaneous fluids, or fluids from a bag into the scruff of his neck to keep him from getting dehydrated). I researched and inhaled all the info I could on kidney disease and how to handle it, taking a pageful of questions to the vet every time we visited. I found an awesome forum of compassionate and intelligent compadres who were also dealing with Chronic Renal Failure (CRF) in their kitties, and passing on invaluable tips and websites (Yahoo! groups: www.pets.groups.yahoo.com/group/Feline—CRF-Support ). It’s amazing how you can talk to people all around the world who have same or similar challenges you have and learn from their experiences within minutes.
And with all this information I amassed, I honed a daily routine that worked for us.
It has been hard. But I’ve found strength I never knew I had. In all the trials, I have learned things about myself, my relationship to my husbandand other things God wanted to show me through Tymphany.
As a praying pet mom, I have experienced God’s guidance and comfort through my up-and-down emotions through the many twists and turns of this journey.
And fortunately, I have some dear friends who are walking with me down this difficult path. Praying with me when I need to. Listening to my grief through my tears. Remembering to ask me how Tymphany is doing.
Linda and Steve Nuss are two such dear friends. Steve also happens to be a counselor specializing in grief and loss. He and I talked about people who don’t understand what some pet owners go through when they lose their special friend, like they would if it were a person. He said society’s view of pet loss – “You’ll get over it…You can get another one” – sometimes brings a lot of shame and guilt to grieving owners.
“It boils down to relationship loss,” he said, “whether it is a pet, child or parent. And that needs to be grieved.”
In my case, I married later in life and Chet and I didn’t have children. I have a full life with lots of friends, nieces and nephews, wonderful parents who live nearbyand a dear young lady I am mentoring. And I do have a balance when caring for people versus animals and the roles of both in our society. But that doesn’t lessen the pain I feel with Tymp’s grave illness. In my case, I work from home and my furry darlings are around me all the time. They keep me company when Chet travels a week at a time.
“For people who don’t have children,” Steve told me, “the loss of a pet is more intense. Sometimes there are secondary loss issues, too. The person may have gone through infertility issues, which is also a loss that needs to be processed. And couples may have made the decision not to adopt.”
You know as well as me – the grief experience wears many coats. It comes in unexpected ways and hits us at unexpected times. When we hear the jingle of a bell and for an instant think it is our beloved lab coming to greet us. When we jump at a “YEOW!” and realize it is only kids playing outside.
For me, it feels like the time to say goodbye to Tymp is very close. Last Saturday, I had a deep need to take him up to my parents’ (Robert and Beverly Lindstrom’s) so we could enjoy him together, maybe for the last time. Chet, Mom, Dad and I sat around in the kitchen in full view of the mountains remembering moments with many of our pets throughout the years, not only Tymp and Brit and their current dogs, Rascal and Choco.
Until four months ago, my wild kitty was not a lap kitty. But that night, I placed him on my almost 81-year-old father’s lap, where he sat contentedly. Dad smiled with satisfaction as he pet him.
This was a tearful moment for me. It is my dad who gave me the love I have today for animals. While growing up in a household with two brothers and a sister, I’d watch as a hard hat propelled itself into the doorway from the garage; about once a year, Dad would send this message to mom to let her know he was bringing another stray for us to hug and care for into our home.
There was a healing moment for me in my heart watching the two of them, Grandpa and Grandkitty, sitting together, enjoying the moment. I snapped a photo.
That is one photo we will keep and treasure forever.
###
Are you experiencing grief from a sick or hurting pet, or have you lost a precious furry companion? Or do you have a precious pet story you’d like to share? Please let Marla know your story. She may include a paragraph or two in upcoming columns paying tribute to pets. You can e-mail her at: TellYourStoryToo@msn.com (Subject: Pet Story).
SPECIAL PERMISSION TO REPRODUCE AND PASS ALONG THIS COLUMN, BUT ONLY IN ITS ENTIRETY WITH PROPER ATTRIBUTION.
Marla’s Note: The day after the column was written, after a rough night, Tymphany passed away (on March 4, 2008). Steve Nuss led a memorial service at my parents, Bob and Bev Lindstrom’s, home in Boulder, reading the Beatitudes as related to grief. Then Dad and I buried him in the Pet Cemetery they have on their property. Brittany has been acting out with some anger (loudly displacing the litter in the litter box, scratching the carpeting and sniffing and rubbing against the area where her brother used to sit in his cuddle basket), but hopefully with a lot of cuddling and petting, that will subside in time.
For me, I am amazed at the awesome grace of God. So much grief, so many tears filled my days leading up to that Tuesday, but after he died, God surrounded me with a miraculous bubble of grace – a place much like heaven, where there is no sorrow or tears (Revelation 21:4). A deep peace and joy filled my heart. “Cause me to hear Your loving kindness in the morning/For in You do I trust/Cause me to know the way in which I should walk/For I lift up my soul to You.” Psalm 143:8. The power of prayer is extraordinary, and the prayers of loving believers gave me this peace.
