When I decided I would never be like my mom

[YoSaffBridge]

the cat we'd had since childhood, Patches, was growing more sick. She basically lived in a bathroom at that point, and she didn't seem too unhappy though she seemed to be pooping and vomiting blood. I told my mom she needed to go to the vet, but my mom didn't want to take her while she was so bad because the vet might judge us for having her in such poor shape. The last day she was home with us, she was yowling in the bathroom, obviously in tremendous pain. She'd wasted away to nothing, and I knew she was dying. I went downstairs and told my mom "We can't let Patches stay like this anymore, we have to take her to a vet." You know what her solution was? She made my twin sister drive me to Animal Control, where we dropped her off like she didn't fucking belong to anyone. I turned her over to them, knowing that they'd put her to sleep and that there wouldn't be anyone there to tell her that she was good and that we loved her. I gave a fake name and address because my mom was afraid Animal Control would take away the other cats and dog we currently had, and I choked on sobs and I left her there like she didn't matter to anyone. And I don't hate my mom for much anymore, but I fucking hate her for that. She has this line of bullshit about how she had to make the choice for my oldest sister, and she can't do it again for anything, which is such bullshit. (Sorry to digress, but an explanation is warranted: my mom gave birth when she was 18 to a baby with a grapefruit sized cancerous tumor. My sister lived for five months, and eventually died because of brain hemorrhages related to chemotherapy, which apparently my mom was in no way prepared for, understandably because she was still a kid herself. Nicky was on life-support, but was completely brain-dead, but of course my mother still had to sign the paperwork to remove the machines, and so she's still convinced she ended my sister's life. I can't even imagine how horrible that must have been, but it doesn't justify shitty behavior for the rest of her life.)

My mom has done a lot of fucked up things, a lot of things my sisters have said we have to chalk it up to her doing the best she can. But even if that's true, in that particular case? Her best was shit. And it was wrong and cruel of her to do that to us.

And you know what? A little less than two months ago, I got the chance to go out of the country for the first time. I was excited, but terrified, and I projected a lot of that onto being worried about my dog dying. (I mentioned it in the I need a hug forum.) He was 14 years old, and I just had invested so much time and energy into thinking "I will be there for Shadow when the time comes. I will hold him and love him and let him go." And I was just so worried that he would leave while I was gone. And you know what? I left on a Sunday. Tuesday, my twin sister called me in Costa Rica and said that in all likelihood, my baby, my best friend for 14 years, probably had a stroke. The vet tried to stabilize him and gave him tranquilizers to calm him down, but said that in all likelihood that nothing could be done for him. The thing that I was most dreading happened. And it fucking sucked. But my twin sister and my dad sat with him at the vet, and pet him and told him how much they loved him and how much I loved him, and how sorry I was that I couldn't be there for him, and he went to whatever's next very quickly. My sister got a bag of his fur, so I can take it to Build a Bear and make myself a little Shadow to hold. And I sat in the sunshine in Costa Rica with burning incense and a candle and cried while people who barely knew me hugged me, told me about their dogs, and let me sob and snot.

Not to get all metaphysical or whatever, because I don't really know what comes after this, but I felt Shadow gave me signs, too, that his love for me still existed. That night for dinner was the only meal that wasn't primarily rice and beans. I'm not a huge fan of either of those, though I made an effort to eat some every day. But that night? Chicken and mashed potatoes. Right up my comfort food alley. That night, I dreamed of Shadow, in a visceral way, where I held him and smelled him and felt his fur. That day, driving back from a volcano expedition, I saw the most beautiful rainbow. And the next day, at the school site we did our volunteer work at every morning, a dog that looked like a long (corgi-ish) version of Shadow, wandered onto the schoolgrounds, let me pet him, and left. I decided that Shadow's dying while I was gone was his gift to me, too, because I'll never know what his scared yelping sounded like, and I'll never know what he looked like after his spirit had left him. He'll always be my Shadow, slowing down, a little confused sometimes maybe, but whole and himself.

All these gifts the universe gave me because I choose not to be like my mom. /end corny pet post.

[MizLzie]

Shouldn't have read this at work - barely containing my tears. I am so so sorry your mom behaved the way she did with your pet, must have been devastating. I probably would have lost it on her, had that happened to me. I had my fair share of kitty deaths and my mom was pretty great about it, having had animals all her life.

The story you shared of your dog was beautiful, really touching. Very happy that you were able to have those moments with your "baby" (I get it, my cats have been my babies). My last cat was hit by a car and all I knew was that she was missing for a few days. After posting on Craigslist and checking the papers I finally saw her description and confirmed she was gone. Luckily a woman from a local animal rescue group saw my post and emailed me. She had pulled over when she noticed cars stopped on a busy road, it was my kitty. She took her to the SPCA and was there till the end (oh great, here come the tears). I am SO grateful someone was there with her, as I'm sure Shadow was as well. Also that I got closure, which rarely happens. I have no doubt that Shadow visited you like you mentioned, as I'm sure he knew you needed that.

*BIG HUGS*