Our cat has had some health issues over the last couple years. Her condition is stable now, but it’s just another reminder to us of her old age. She is supposedly 9 years old, but our vet thinks she could be more like 11 or 12. I adopted her from a foster mom in 2016, years before I met Mr. Nacho. I met two cats during my visit to the foster mom. What drew me to this cat in particular was not her feline beauty, but rather her personality and sweet nature (which of course makes her that much more beautiful!).
She’s been my sidekick for a long time. I have spent more time with this cat over the course of the last 8 years than I have spent in the company of anyone else. Through all the moves and homes, jobs, and various life events including the stay-at-home order of the pandemic, getting married, and now having Mr. Nacho as her dad. She’s curious and friendly with strangers, is gentle, slow to make decisions and move (just like her mama), extremely considerate, and just an all-around well-behaved cat.
And since I obviously think about aging and death a lot, it’s only natural that I would also be thinking about the downstream decisions and lasting impact of our cat’s inevitable death. I have been trying to prepare myself for what to expect and the decisions I may make. I know that if our cat were to get sick or die, I would already be dealing with a lot, and so I would prefer to understand my options well ahead of time.
In the event she suffers too much and we need to consider putting her down, I’ve determined that the best decision would be for a mobile vet to perform the procedure so that she is comfortable at home. My sister-in-law made a good point though that sometimes there isn’t enough time to schedule an appointment in advance and that she may need to go to the vet as an emergency. Being in an environment that’s not her home is a stressful event for her, which is why I’d rather she pass peacefully at home. If we do need to bring her to the vet, I’d love for our personal vet who has taken care of her for years to be the one to put her down.
Remembering her in West Virginia
Our sweet cat will likely never make a trip out to West Virginia. Moving is stressful overall and we don’t want to put any undue stress on her. With that said, we want her out there with us somehow and for us to be reminded of her when we are there. Perhaps we can bury her out there, and plant a tree or have some sort of physical memorial of her.
I’ve always assumed that I would cremate her and either bury or spread her ashes somewhere. But I’m wondering now if ashes will feel less personal. I never thought about considering an actual physical burial before. If I had ashes I don’t know what I would do with them. There are services that will create pieces of art or jewelry with those ashes, but in the back of my mind I’d always be wondering if her ashes could be mistakenly mixed up somehow. I also fear getting too attached to an item that if something were to ever happen to it I’d be devastated.
Who knows what the final decision will be once we get to that point, but I’m glad to at least better understand my options and how I might feel.
Pet cremation and burial considerations
- Cremation. There is a concept of “private” pet cremation (only your pet) and “communal” pet cremation (multiple pets cremated together). You should ask the organization what their definition is of “private”, as sometimes it is semi-private
- Ashes can move with you if you ever move
- Burial in the backyard. Burying a pet depends on your municipality, county and/or state regulations
- Burial details.
- Rolling the pet into a ball (like when it’s asleep), as soon as it has passed (before rigor mortis sets in) may make it easier and smaller to dig a whole
- The recommendation is for a depth of 3-4 feet to prevent any odors and so that animals are not able to dig the remains out. Additionally, the burial should not take place near a water source so as not to contaminate the water
- It may be worth digging and preparing the site before a pet is actually put to sleep, to limit emotional distress of sitting there for hours crying while digging a hole
- Digging a grave is not an easy task (consider a power tool)
- Be conscious of any underground utility lines
- Consider working in a pair to take turns (one person breaks up the soil with a digging bar; the other person scoops out with a shovel)
- Tools to consider: a short-handled spade with a D-grip on the end, a long-handled shovel with a point for scooping out soil, a pair of pruners for trimming roots, a digging bar for breaking up subsoil
- A small tarp or drop-cloth to shovel the dirt onto could be useful for getting all the soil removed back onto the grave at the end
- Wear work gloves for digging to protect your hands and also closed-toed shoes and long pants
- Make sure what you bury the pet in is made of biodegradable, natural materials like a sheet so it can decompose at the same rate (vs. wrapping in plastic)
- Shipping remains. When shipping remains to create some sort of memorial item or piece of art, it is legal to ship cremated remains (both human and pet) as long as certain guidelines are followed
Excerpts from Ann Patchett’s “Dog without End”
I haven’t had a pet die since I was in middle school, so it’s been awhile. I’m expecting it to be quite difficult as an adult, but I appreciate the way Ann Patchett has written about her own experience about the relationship and passing of her dogs. She has written a handful of nonfiction essays about her dog Rose. Below are some excerpts.
I watch the other dog owners in the park, married people and single people and people with children. The relationship each one has with his or her dog is very personal and distinct. But what I see again and again is that people are proud of their pets, proud of the way that they run, proud of how they nose around with the other dogs, proud that they are brave enough to go into the water or smart enough to stay out of it. People seem able to love their dogs with an unabashed acceptance that they rarely demonstrate with family or friends. The dogs do not disappoint them, or if they do, the owners manage to forget about it quickly. I want to learn to love like this, the way we love our dogs, with pride and enthusiasm and a complete amnesia for faults. In short, to love others the way our dogs love us.
…
Rose died the next day, at the vet’s, and though she was no longer drinking water, she still required a second injection to bump her out of life. I understood that this was her time, and that we had both been lucky these 16 good years. And still, when the vet came to take her from me, something in me cracked. I stepped into that same river that the man in the golf cart had been in, and I sank.
My friend Susan told me to find old pictures of Rose when she was healthy and young. Susan said they would make me feel worse for a while, and then better. And she was right. I bought a photo album and I arranged the story of her life. What I hadn’t imagined was that it was the story of my life as well. If you flip through the pages you see us age together: Rose in my lap, Rose at my side, other people moving in and out of the frame over time while my hand forever rests on Rose.
…
Sometimes love does not have the most honorable beginnings, and the endings, the endings will break you in half. It’s everything in between we live for.
