Loss, We Meet Again... Again

I've been trying to figure out how I wanted to write about this.  My little kitten, Mischief, died on Thursday.  He had feline infectious peritonitus.  If this post feels familiar to you, it's because this has already happened... with my last kitten, Ellipses.  I have no words to explain the frustration I feel over losing 2 kittens within a matter of months.

I have sat down half a dozen times to blog about this only I have no idea what I want to say about any of it.  I am feeling so many emotions all at once.  I figured I would tell you about it all, but I don't want to re-hash it and so I'm not.  The summary?  Mischief was a healthy kitten for 2 weeks and then he started to get weak.  He had anemia, and then his belly started to bloat.  The vet recommended a change of diet, so we put him on prescribed food and that helped for 1 week.  And then he started to lose weight that he didn't have and then his belly bloat came back.  A urinalysis proved that he was eliminating vast amounts of protein through his urine, meaning that he wasn't gaining muscle.  He began to fever and became so exhausted that he couldn't even make it to his litter box, so he would pee on himself and lay in it.  I got to the point where I was coming home from work during lunch n order to move him to his water bowl and food bowl so that he could eat in hopes to keep up his energy levels until we knew what was going on with him.  I would also place him in his litter box so he could relieve himself.  The blood work proved that what he had was fatal and that his intestines were shutting down and next would be his heart.  That's when I made the decision to have him put to sleep.  That was this past Thursday.

And that's all I've got to say.  I'm trying to find the wisdom in all of this.  With Ellipses I learned a lot about love and the hidden emotions that come up unexpectedly for a birth mother when faced with loss.  This time around, I'm mad.  I don't know who I'm mad at though.  If you all knew half the stuff I've been dealing with this summer, then perhaps this post would make more sense to you.  This summer has been a ridiculous one with hardship after hardship.  Mischief was the one thing I looked forward to every day.  He made me smile and he made me chill out and let things happen as they happen and not try to control them.  His little meow was the cutest thing ever.  And his purr was calming.  I don't think he ever knew how truly small he was in stature because he would parade around like a lion.  And though his meow was tiny and quiet, I think he probably felt like a king when he would vocalize.  I loved him.  He was my little friend and he depended on me and he died; I'm not even going to touch up on how confusing the emotions are that surround that realization.

My roommates cat, Mayhem, has since waited by my bedroom door for Mischief's little paw to peek underneath and for them to be able to play by paw.  Once his health started to decline, I kept Mischief quarantined in my room until we knew what he had for sure.  And during their separation, that was their way of staying in contact with each other.  It breaks my heart when I see Mayhem waiting patiently for Mischief's paw to come out.  I pick him up and cuddle him and tell him, "I'm sorry bug.  He isn't here anymore" and then he meows.

It all seems ridiculous to me.  When does one experience enough loss to finally be left alone?  That's the one thought that has occupied my mind?  Sometimes I feel like I am responsible for death because I've seen enough of it in my lifetime.  That sounds so dramatic.  And I know I'm not responsible for death, but I'm sick of it.  I just wish that I found something lasting and that it wouldn't leave.  I know that I am responsible for my actions and my actions have led to separations and I get that.  But the things that are out of my control... those moments are still plagued by absence and missing and loss and I'm exhausted by it.  For the short month that I had Mischief... I just can't even express how much I grew to love him and look forward to his company.  There is something about a tiny fury creature who is dependent on you that finally gives you perspective, and that was Mischief.  I miss him a lot.