Chapter 6 in Our Story
We Have Lost Our Big Sister, Cody Renee
Well, this is Bruno telling you about our big sister’s most recent illness and her journey to – this is hard to write – “kitty heaven.” She didn’t really like Max and me, because we’re kind of silly and dopey and we run around a lot and we chased her, too. We just didn’t “get” that she didn’t want to play with us. I think that Max is quiet and regretful, because when Mommy came home with Cody’s carrier, and she wasn’t in the carrier, Max crawled into it. He inspected it, and sniffed, and came out, and looked at Mommy and meowed. Max looked confused. I wasn’t so sure, because I never experienced something like this.
Cody really was the “diva” cat, at 18 and a half years, and at the end of that week, it seemed that she had a UTI again…her 3rd in eleven months. She was again straining in the kitty litter box. Mommy took her to the kitty/doggy hospital and she received a shot of antibiotic. But, instead of getting better, like she always did, by the next morning it was much worse. She moaned if she was picked up by Mommy, who was so careful. Max and I watched her, because it was so scary. Then, it was frightening, because she vomited blood and she couldn’t stand or walk without falling over. Mommy quickly took her to the emergency clinic, which is open 24 hours per day, every day. Max seemed to know more than I did; but then I’m a little younger than Max.
Mommy held Cody, and stroked her, while the doctor gave Cody the anesthetic and then the medicine to put her asleep for kitty heaven. It must have been hard for Mommy to make the decision to have Cody go to kitty heaven. Cody had been a little buddy for more than 18 years. She even decided that she would sleep on the bed by Mommy’s pillow for all of that time. Because she did that, I knew that I could, too. Even Max got up on the bed when Mommy was asleep and didn’t notice. OK, Cody was right – we are dopey, but we’re only six years old. Now that she’s gone, Max and I play together more than we did before. I’ll bet that Max wishes that he had been nicer to our older sister, because you know, she really was smart. We’re nicer to each other now.
Cody knew lots of “words,” like “big jump.” When Mommy said that and patted the chair cushion or the bed, Cody would jump up. She looked very satisfied, too. That’s what Mommy said. Cody knew what “kippy food” meant, and she’d go to her own dish. We each had a separate food dish. Max and I still do. And, she knew what a “nappy-poo” was and she would go take a nap! I did steal her favorite bed months ago. Maybe I should not have done that?
Wait! This is me, Max. I’m OK to purr and tell you more now, but you know, I do miss Cody. Now that we don’t have Cody, sometime the apartment seems sort of empty. Cody was slinky as she walked, and she really was pretty, too.
Bruno and I are even closer now. When a doggy or kitty goes to heaven, there’s a “space.” Bruno and I really cuddle now. We still wash each other’s faces, but now we curl up together or lie alongside each other to sleep for naps. Bruno seeks out tummy rubs and pats lots more, too, than he did before.
Mommy has been sort of sad since Cody went to heaven. The morning after Cody didn’t come home, Mommy put her hand where Cody usually slept and…there was no Cody. Bruno and I noticed, too. Mommy was talking on the phone and told a friend about Cody and the hospital. We listened and it was sad. She said that there was a young man with another 18-year old girl cat that was very sick and the veterinarian suggested that perhaps, with the kitty’s advanced kidney disease, it was “time.” Mommy said that she sat and talked with the young man about the kitty and how he was feeling…very sad…and crying. He thanked Mommy, and then she left.
Cody was cremated, like her BFF and favorite big brother Peter, who died in January 2014. Peter’s ashes were spread on Mommy’s pet burial ground at a friend’s garden. Mommy has tufts of Cody’s pretty black fur, and a small plaster cast of Cody’s foot print. The nice people at Near North sent a card, and those at the emergency hospital and the crematorium and even the medicine company that always sent Cody’s ear-ointment for her over-active thyroid. Dr. Henderson said, “She was a spunky girl.” Justin said that, “She’ll be missed.” Trish called Cody a “sweet old lady.” (Well…not always sweet…she could be a total diva!) Mommy adopted Cody from Near North and Dr. Boin knows that Cody was loved…and cantankerous!
The pet memorial company gave Mommy a poem. It’s sad for the humans, and talks from the kitty’s or doggy’s or any favorite pet-baby’s view.
Don’t think that I have gone away
My journey has just begun
Life holds so many facets
And earth is only one.
Just think of me as resting
From the sorrows and the tears
In a place of warmth and comfort
Where there are no days and years.
Think how I must be wishing
That you could know today
How nothing but your sadness
Can really pass away.
Just think of me as living
In the hearts of those I touched
For nothing loved is ever lost
Because I know I was loved…very, very much.
This is Mommy here…..this poem makes me sad, but I know that Cody and her two big sisters Sheba and Dinah, and Peter, who preceded her to kitty heaven will always be remembered.
If you have a loved pet that is very sick, think about his or her needed release from pain…and a new resting place in pet heaven. And, hold your pet-baby so softly as the transition begins.