The Extraordinary Life (and Loss) of a Neighborhood Legend~ my Cat, Greyson.

Had my cat, Greyson put to sleep early yesterday morning. On Thanksgiving morning (or sometime during the night) he’d “thrown a clot” due to an enlarged, weakened heart (to my shock and surprise), according to the emergency doc who examined him. His hind legs were paralyzed due to the clot blocking blood circulation to them.

Greyson became my neighborhood’s mascot. Everybody loved seeing him in their yard, because he was their insurance against pesky rodents invading their home. He especially loved capturing (and eating) rats, but anything that moved, was game on!

Mr. Grey had sustained numerous injuries over the years, and it killed me to see him in pain~ but being the wild, rambunctious, determined, prey-driven child that he is, he always managed to recover. I was advised there was little or no chance for a positive outcome from this one. The vet strongly encouraged euthanizing him.

I refused, and brought him home with a coterie of medications, mostly for pain and discomfort. Fashioned a bed on my living room floor, so I could be beside him to respond to any need he might have during the night. He let me know when he needed to urinate. I’d hold him over a nearby pee pad and we managed, but it killed me to see this typically hearty, undaunted, coyote-attacker robbed of his dignity, and in agony.

I called the hospital early next day, on the 24th to arrange for euthanasia. After considerable time spent alone with him to convey my love, gratitude and respect, Mr. Grey was helped to fall into a deep sleep, and died in my arms. It felt like a very loving and peaceful parting for us both.

The staff at ACCESS pet emergency hospital was very kind and caring. I got some heartfelt hugs. I'm not even close to being stoic when it comes to these things, and cried uncontrollably.

I deeply wrestled with having them handle his remains, or bringing him back home. My level of stress at this point cautioned me about taking on more, by burying him at home. I tried to discern what seemed best for us both.

I finally decided my boy deserved a proper burial. After we got back home, he lay lifeless in his bed next to me on my sofa, and I talked to, kissed and pet him lovingly. I was happy to have the opportunity to be with him longer. It was the right choice, as my connection with his essence didn't have to end abruptly. This was a gift I think, to both of us.

I took my time, brought my living room environment back to normal, did some laundry, and continued to speak to Grey and assure him he'd be in my heart forever, and that our sweet doggie, Cleo (who died a year earlier) was waiting to greet him and play.

Around 1:30pm, I commenced preparing for his burial. Spread a tarp to catch the soil next to Cleo's grave, and began digging. It was as easy as I'd hoped, as the ground was still soft and loose within the grave.

I dug down about 2.5 feet, wrapped my Greyson (now stiff and in full rigor) in decorative wrapping tissue, and placed him in a large paper shopping bag with handles. I gently lowered his body into the grave. He was now piggy-backing with Cleo's remains, but a bit higher up.

New Orleans graveyards place family caskets/crypts atop one another. I liked the imagery and symbolism. I re-positioned Cleo's grave marker tribute after I refilled the hole and packed the dirt down. It all went smoothly. Took roughly 1.5 hours.

I am at peace, and feel some relief. Greyson was a highly spirited, independent, tough feline who was at times a pain in my ass~ but uniquely and totally lovable. Samba and Tango no longer have to worry about his invasive, harassing, aggressive behaviors, and there's a definable sense of calm that has pervaded our home.

All losses of beloved animals are traumatic, but I'm managing well in the aftermath of this one. Grey had 8.5 years of an active, daring, happy and wonderful life. I felt intense sorrow and impotence for his pain and immobility prior to his passing, but surprisingly, it's not evoking the deep sense of loss and excruciating grief I descended into when Cleo left us.

Cleo’d had tragic beginnings. She'd been abused in her former life, and was terribly neglected while used (I believe) as a breeder for six years. My sadness and empathy for her earlier struggles pervaded my being, and I mourned for an entire year after her passing. She was with me for only five years, and I feel cheated, but I can finally look at her picture on my kitchen counter, without devastating grief getting resuscitated.

It's not that I love Greyson less. It's that I had more dominion over his being able to flourish and live a rich, well-loved, active and full life, free of trauma. THIS is why our parting feels different I guess, and I'm able to rebound and feel okay (at least, so far).

Thank you to a few dear friends AND all my Facebook followers, for allowing me to include you in this difficult journey. It only felt fitting, and I’m grateful for all your heartfelt, beautiful (earlier) wishes for Greyson's swift recovery. These have meant the world to me. They’ve made this event feel less isolating and traumatic during a very difficult (holiday) time.

May God bless you all.