The elusive yeti died in my arms on saturday, may 27 at 3:40pm. i had to have her euthanized. she had lost the ability to walk for the most part, a new development since the night before. the vet said her heart wasn't pumping enough blood to reach her legs and that i had made the right choice for her by calling him. he administered a shot of ketamine and valium that made her fall asleep pretty quickly and guy and i held her and loved her, petting her and talking to her. the wracking sobs coming out of me grew strangely quiet and i felt somewhat calm when the vet gave her the final shot that stopped her heart. we felt her leave. her body lost all of it's weight when she left. she was just fur and bones then. guy held her during this time as i wrote a check and signed some papers. i couldn't look at her then...the doctor asked us if we wanted...we said, please take her, no ashes, please take her. we thanked him for being kind and he wrapped her in my bright kelly green towel and put her in a carrier and took her.
guy and i couldn't stop crying after that. we just kept crying and crying. i called my mom and later we went to a friend's house for distraction and warm hugs and bong loads.
and that was it.
yeti came into my life as a feral, abandoned cat. it took a year of socializing for her to allow me to touch her but once we broke through that wall, she was extremely affectionate and seemed perpetually grateful, looking at me through cataract-laden eyes with all the love in the world. the yeti. very special. friends described her as " a little old lady" and "a ballerina." delicate and sweet and dearly dearly loved. bye bye my baby.
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