Weekend Onesie: Good-bye, Cedric

Weekend Onesie: 

Good-bye, Cedric

One of my best friends died on Thursday, Xmas Eve.

Cedric was 23 - almost 24 years-old.

He'd been on the street for two years when the boyfriend adopted him. He was one of those rare ferals that was fearful, and cautious, but also surprisingly trusting and friendly. He was a love.

He had a good life. However, during the last two years he'd developed a tumor. Growing in his sinuses, it was causing him all sorts of issues, including dementia. 

He'd lost a tremendous amount of weight - over half his body size. Frequently, he would start to eat, but then suddenly raise his head, as if he had no idea what he was doing. Then he'd wander off, leaving the remaining food untouched. So, when there on the weekends, I took it upon myself to make sure he had access to food whenever he wanted - which was typically every hour. I kept a tupperware bowl of it near my chair and one on my bedside table. He slept with me and would frequently wake me in the night by placing his nose in my ear or licking my head. 

He'd also developed a habit of talking to me, loudly and non-stop - which the boyfriend tells me he never did unless I was there. Mine was his lap of preference and he had a tendency of using my laptop keyboard as a pillow. I didn't mind. It was inconvenient, but I managed. I always had a blanket at the ready to make sure my friend was nice and warm... a little kitty burrito.

He was the sweetest animal. Quick with the kisses and licking hands. The boyfriend claims he was quite the bully when it came to the other cats in the house, but I never saw such behavior.

When we would work out in the basement, Cedric would come along and sit on my lap or chest or back - acting as a purring, supportive coach as I exercised. And purr he did... constantly. He was a happy fellow.

Wednesday, when I arrived to work out, he didn't greet me at the door, as he typically did. He was all snug in the bed amongst the covers and somewhat unresponsive. After he failed to join us in the basement, I made a point of sitting with him. At one point, he looked at me and I instantly knew exactly what he was telling me... that it was time.

He fell into a deep sleep and I left to return to work.

I got a text message about 8:00 pm. Cedric had to go to the vet the next day. I knew what that meant. In theory, I accepted it. 

My mind raced. We had a blizzard going on outside. I would have to shovel everything in the morning and then pray that the city plowed the alley so I could get my car out in time to pick up the boyfriend and Cedric.

Well, things did not go well. The boyfriend ended up having to walk to the vets. I got there as soon as I could. We sat in the car, waiting for news from the vet inside. All communication was done over the phone. Due to covid, no one was allowed inside, except clinic personnel.

The lab results indicated that things were not going well for Cedric. Lots of words and phrases one never wants to hear in connection to a loved one poured out of the speaker of the boyfriend's cell phone. He asked if it was 'time' and the vet said she "could support that".

We told her we would discuss it and phone back. 

Our fear was that Cedric would bleed out when neither of us was around or when we were away in Madison for New Years. We didn't want him to be alone or in pain.

So we made the hard decision.

It was all done on our timeline... 

Masks were worn throughout by all and contact with other people was limited to a few minutes.

Whenever we were ready to move to the next stage of the procedure, we pushed a button and someone would appear.

We sat in a room with a revitalized Cedric for about 15 minutes. The whole thing was over in thirty.

The vet and vet techs had done a wonderful job of hydrating Cedric and had been feeding him fatty wet food while he was waiting for lab results. They'd cleaned up his sinuses and he was bright-eyed and full of purrs. I lowered my mask for kisses and hand licks, as we marveled at the lovely pink of his foot pads which we always called 'beans' - because they looked like tiny pink jelly beans.

During the stage where they sedated him, he fell asleep in my arms, although, I must say... he didn't seem to want to go.

We both stayed for his final moments and lingered a bit after. The staff was very kind.

The house has been so quiet without him.

Cedric was a joy.

And I will always treasure the time we had. 

Good-bye, My Friend - Linda Ronstadt