When Violets turn Blue
I have to wake up in three hours. It'd be nice to call into work, but we're usually short-staffed, and probably even more so with the flash flood warnings, and I don't want to do that to my co-workers. Also, currently my fire alarm is going off. I'm ignoring that right now. One of many if-not-illegal-than-incivil things for the night. Who can sleep now, anyway?
My dog Val woke me up at 1am this morning by jumping on my bed...and me. I assumed it was to pee (actually, I am pretty sure it was, but I don't care, and it doesn't matter anyway), and I saw to my irritation that Val had eaten my cat Violet's food (again). But then I realized I didn't see Violet. I got my flashlight and checked her bed, but she rarely uses that in favor of my bed. I checked in the bathroom where I had put her blanket and food. Not there. I checked under my bed. No furball. So I checked her litter box, and saw that something was wrong.
She was lying on her side (problem number 1), she had diarrhea one end and vomit the other (problems 2 and 3), and she was agonal breathing (huge problem 4). I had a passing wish for gloves, but I grabbed her and tried to help her breathe by clearing the vomit out of her mouth, checking for anything blocking her airway, attempting a heimlich maneuver (although I really don't know if it's different for cats than for people), and trying to aspirate out anything further down her airway with a little tuberculin syringe. None of that helped, so I wrapped her up in her blanket and frantically called my good, amazing, most-likely-to-pick-up-her-phone-at-this-hour friend Kelli. She knows that I am not that great at staying up late, so when she answered, the first thing she said was "What's wrong." Statement, not really a question. I frantically went through the list of problems, and asked where I should go. I'm a nurse, not a vet. I don't know the emergency procedure. She told me she'd meet me at the 24/7 clinic, after telling me the address probably 3 times, and I grabbed a jacket with wallet inside and ran down the stairs, across the parking lot to my car. As I drove, I called Kelli back and just kept talking to her, while cradling Violet in my lap. Pretty sure I wasn't doing the best lane driving at the time. About halfway into the 10-minute drive, I no longer heard Violet gasping. So I did one-handed compressions as accurately as I could while keeping my eyes on the road. I also ran a red left-arrow turn. And did a bad parking job at the clinic.
I handed her off to a vet technician who ran her back to wherever (I wasn't allowed) and started answering the receptionist's questions about Violet's history. No, I hadn't gotten her vaccinated because she's been underweight from anorexia from an upper respiratory infection, but no, she hadn't been acting strange last night. She actually ate more yesterday than she ever had, and cuddled with me, and jumped on my bed to sleep with me. My other transgression is that I hadn't registered her with the city of Houston, but nobody brought that up, and anyway the reason I hadn't is because I hadn't vaccinated her because that's not a good idea if you're medically anorexic.
Someone took us back to a treatment room, and told us that Violet hadn't responded yet to CPR, but the vet was still trying. When the vet came in with empty hands, I knew that was it. She explained that Violet hadn't revived with CPR or epinephrine, and said they didn't know the cause of her death, then asked if I wanted to see her.
Yes, yes I did.
I wanted some closure. I couldn't get answers to why, but I could give a little love to the body that once held Violet's soul, stroking her beautiful fur and closing her open eyes.
And I'm sorry if this is morbid, but I took a picture. For your closure to the opener you never had.
Anger is one of the steps of acceptance. I skipped that step. I'm not angry. Just sad. Sad that the sweet little Violet left me so suddenly. Sad that I can't get reasons to help ease my unjustified guilt. Sad that Val no longer has someone to compete with for my attention. Sad to answer the inquiries about her.
Sad to know it will be hard to replace the sweetest, chillest, gorgeous kitten that she was.
My dog Val woke me up at 1am this morning by jumping on my bed...and me. I assumed it was to pee (actually, I am pretty sure it was, but I don't care, and it doesn't matter anyway), and I saw to my irritation that Val had eaten my cat Violet's food (again). But then I realized I didn't see Violet. I got my flashlight and checked her bed, but she rarely uses that in favor of my bed. I checked in the bathroom where I had put her blanket and food. Not there. I checked under my bed. No furball. So I checked her litter box, and saw that something was wrong.
She was lying on her side (problem number 1), she had diarrhea one end and vomit the other (problems 2 and 3), and she was agonal breathing (huge problem 4). I had a passing wish for gloves, but I grabbed her and tried to help her breathe by clearing the vomit out of her mouth, checking for anything blocking her airway, attempting a heimlich maneuver (although I really don't know if it's different for cats than for people), and trying to aspirate out anything further down her airway with a little tuberculin syringe. None of that helped, so I wrapped her up in her blanket and frantically called my good, amazing, most-likely-to-pick-up-her-phone-at-this-hour friend Kelli. She knows that I am not that great at staying up late, so when she answered, the first thing she said was "What's wrong." Statement, not really a question. I frantically went through the list of problems, and asked where I should go. I'm a nurse, not a vet. I don't know the emergency procedure. She told me she'd meet me at the 24/7 clinic, after telling me the address probably 3 times, and I grabbed a jacket with wallet inside and ran down the stairs, across the parking lot to my car. As I drove, I called Kelli back and just kept talking to her, while cradling Violet in my lap. Pretty sure I wasn't doing the best lane driving at the time. About halfway into the 10-minute drive, I no longer heard Violet gasping. So I did one-handed compressions as accurately as I could while keeping my eyes on the road. I also ran a red left-arrow turn. And did a bad parking job at the clinic.
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| nothing like a bath to show size |
Someone took us back to a treatment room, and told us that Violet hadn't responded yet to CPR, but the vet was still trying. When the vet came in with empty hands, I knew that was it. She explained that Violet hadn't revived with CPR or epinephrine, and said they didn't know the cause of her death, then asked if I wanted to see her.
Yes, yes I did.
I wanted some closure. I couldn't get answers to why, but I could give a little love to the body that once held Violet's soul, stroking her beautiful fur and closing her open eyes.
And I'm sorry if this is morbid, but I took a picture. For your closure to the opener you never had.
Anger is one of the steps of acceptance. I skipped that step. I'm not angry. Just sad. Sad that the sweet little Violet left me so suddenly. Sad that I can't get reasons to help ease my unjustified guilt. Sad that Val no longer has someone to compete with for my attention. Sad to answer the inquiries about her.
Sad to know it will be hard to replace the sweetest, chillest, gorgeous kitten that she was.
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It doesn't matter that there's no movie All Cats Go To Heaven. I know she will. If this earth will be 'resurrected' to paradisaical glory, then so will a living, breathing animal.
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| Goodbye, Love |
Sadie... I don't know you, I randomly came across your blog and red this (the title grabbed me because I love the name Violet). I breaks my heart! she is beautiful.
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