Today is the day I say "Goodbye" to my bestest furriest feline friend, Charlie.
At 4:50pm, some of my friends and I will meet at All Tails Wagging Vet here in Santa Rosa to be with the Charlie man while we lay him down and put him to sleep. Heather will drive my Prius so that I don't crash the car into something while I sob. I've been doing a lot of sobbing lately. I just think of a practical detail of what has to take place, like, "This is the last day we'll be together," or "Do I cremate his body or do I want to take him home in a box with me to bury him in the back yard?" Or thoughts like "Phew. No more visits to the vet or insulin injections or worrying about him in my dreams," and then a shot of guilt will pass though me for thinking it, even though I know it's normal and fine to have these thoughts.
Saying goodbye is never easy for me, especially for a special guy, such as Charlie, who's touched my heart and so many other hearts in such a big way. Boyfriends of mine have come and gone, roommates have too, but Charlie's been there with me through it all for fourteen years. He's been my rock, my anchor, my trusted and mellow bud. He's seen me grow up from a self-conscoius and rebellious firecracker to the woman I am today, more grounded and at peace with myself. What will my life be without him? Very different. I know this. My life and my identity has been so wrapped up in caring for him and loving him. Someone just recently told me that and that I'll come to know who I am without him now. And I also know that there will be a sense of liberation that only one who has cared for a sick loved one for years can know. But mostly, there will be sadness and longing for him. For a while anyway. He's always been there. What will I do or feel when he won't be? There will be times when I imagine that I'll hear Charlie in the other room of the house. I'll look just because, and then remind myself that it couldn't be him because, well, he'll be gone. No more Charlie. Oy vey. Yes, indeedy, my world will be different.
I decided to take the day off from work. I was hoping to collect some good days off to go on vacation soon. And I will. But there was no way I was going to be away from Charlie on this last day together. So here we are, Charlie and me, sitting out on the porch on the most beautiful day. The air is warm at about 82 degrees ferenheit. The sun is out, although it is hazy. There's a nice breeze going. The birds are chirping and singing. The sacadas are serenading him what I allow myself to imagine as a sweet "gooodbye." Charlie got to walk around the garden. For a little while, he climbed up into the catnip potted in a Mexican terra cotta pot, and just lay there inside it curled up and drunk on the herb. Now he's laying beside me on the deck, in a sweet shady patch under the mexican daisy. His breathing is shallow, but he seems okay- almost at peace. I've talked with him and told him what's going to happen at 4:50 today. And every few minutes, I'll give him a pat or a verbal check-in, with some kind of sweet nothing attached to it.
As far as last days go, this one's pretty good in my book. And I hope in Charlie's book, as well.
I check in with him now and see that his breathing looks a bit fast now. But he yawns and stretches, and I sigh relief, glad that I slipped some Arnica into his water today to ease his pain, and knowing that he's still pretty "okay." He's in some pain, but I also know that he's a trooper, always has been. My little Zen Buddha kitty who stays even keel through most things.
Well, I'm going to squeeze in another hour here with Charlie before we have to take that last ride to the vet.
Thanks for taking the time to read throug this blog about Charlie's last day. And if you feel like doing so, send him a loving thought and wish. I will probably need some time to myself. I tend to do the Greta Garbo thing and "van to be alone" during times of loss such as this. But emails are welcome, and phone messages, too. I just may not return calls for a while though. I imagine I won't be up for talking about "how sad it is that he's gone." Who knows. But thanks for the love and support however you choose to send it. And thanks to all of you who loved the Charlie man. And... thanks to Charlie, for being my bud all these years; you've been the best friend I could have imagined; you've been family to me. I'll always keep you in my heart.
Charlie Gildred The Best Bunny in the World. (June 1993 - April 27, 2007)
