Au revoir, mon chat

Polar Bear, the car, ran out of chances today. I feel bad about this but it happens to all of our animals. Today, Lynne and I decided he had to be put to sleep.

You don't make this decision easily. In fact, just yesterday we were discussing this with a friend of ours who had put their cat to sleep last week. She was noting that it was almost overwhelming to discover you had the power between life and death ... even for an animal.

But the fact is Polar Bear wasn't well. Although it wasn't on a regular basis, he had occasionally been peeing and pooping on a new rug we had bought for the basement. This morning, I had just cleaned his litter. He had been nearby and whining a bit so I placed him in it. He jumped out of it, wandered a bit and then peed on the carpet. Maybe he had a cat version of Alzheimer's. Maybe it was an "up yours" moment that cats are known for. Either way, we can't have it.

Cats bring out different reactions than dogs. Dogs are protectors. Dogs follow a sense of order and fairly predictable. Cats are comforters. They are iconic and hard to understand at times. They like being mysterious.

I can't count how many times I came home to find Polar Bear staring at the wall. What was he looking at? Did he see something I couldn't? He never let you know his true feelings. Pete, the dog, is just the opposite. His feelings are always transparent. When he is happy, you can tell. The tail is wagging a mile a minute. When he in unhappy (or scared), his head is down and he is in his crate tightly.

I feel bad about this decision because Polar Bear has been in the house almost from the day we bought the place in 2000. But his weight had dropped in half in the last year and the poor guy did little but sleep and meow a bit.

Although it was a terrible, heart-rendering experience, I discovered animals have an innate instinct to adjust to any situation. I suspect Polar Bear knew something was wrong when he didn't raise a ruckus as we drove to the clinic. He was very quiet when the vet's assistant put in the tiny catheter and hardly moved when Dr. Troy came in to do what needed to be done. In the end, I think (okay, maybe it's hope) he trusted us that we were doing the right thing by him.

It was our turn to be the comforter.