A few days ago I found out through my blogfeed subscriptions that Zeke sadly had to be put down, after a long period of failing health. This was not a surprise: Chris blogged his heartbreak over Zeke’s decline just as he had blogged his loving companionship with Zeke for years, and his readers’ hearts broke with him.
I haven’t been able to comment over there since Zeke’s death, because I find myself reliving a trauma from not quite a year ago. Chris was able to hold Zeke while he was put down, so that the last face Zeke saw was his trusted human, and I so envy him the comfort of that. I am so envious that I am shaking, although most of that is continued rage.
My neighbour stole that comfort from me and my pet when my elderly cat Poco was dying. On the very day that I decided it was time for her to be taken to the vet and euthanised, I allowed her to climb the fence to see my neighbour one last time (she went to see her every day). She never came back.
My neighbour rang the RSPCA, told them that my cat was a stray, and they came and took her away and put her down. Strangers trapped her, took her away in a van, and injected her as part of a factory euthanasia setup. Her last hours would have been spent wondering why I wasn’t there.
I’m not speculating about this, because my neighbour told me herself that she had called them (in an attempt to shame me about not having had Poco put down earlier), although she didn’t tell me that she had lied to them: I found that out when I called them to clarify why they hadn’t spoken to me about euthanising my cat.
I still miss Poco dreadfully, and it’s a gnawing festering pain rather than a sweet nostalgia because of the way her life ended. I can’t see the fence she climbed every day, and that I let her go and climb the day she was taken to die alone, without feeling pain. I have planted shrubs along the fence line so that I don’t see my neighbour so much, but they’re still young and I still occasionally see glimpses of her. Whenever I do my fists clench and my teeth grind. I can’t forgive her betrayal of neighbourly trust, and I certainly can’t forget. She’s old, and I just want her to get on and die already.
Losing a companion animal is always awful. My heart goes out to Chris and Becky as they attempt to adjust to life without Zeke’s gorgeous ears to rub. At least he wasn’t stolen from them to meet his end.