We chose to put Psyche to sleep this morning. Her kidneys had failed and the likelihood of them coming back in time to clean her system of the built up poisons was small. The choices were to take her home and let her die there, transfer her to the emergency veterinary hospital where she would more than likely die alone and amongst strangers, or to administer the euthanasia drugs while she was laying in our arms and still had some comfort and care. She died just before noon.
Psyche came into our home while we were living in Lubbock, TX. It was 2000 and this long-haired gray cat kept hanging out by our back door. Our neighbors told us the previous tenants had been feeding this cat, so we kept up the tradition. After a while, despite my insistence that we were not going to adopt this cat (we already had an adopted cat, Cassandra, you see), I opened the door and she just walked inside, neat as you please.
And never left.
Psyche was the ultimate indoor cat. She occasionally showed some interest in what was going on outside, but never really wanted to leave the house. She was Jenn’s companion through her dissertation work and kept me company when I was sleeping on the couch. She was a tough-as-nails feline who would demand rough rough rough scritches and then bite you when she liked it. She was soft and fuzzy and loved us both. We’re going to miss her terribly.
We buried Psyche on the front hill of our house, where the previous owners had also laid some pets to rest. Psyche deserved to be placed there as this was more her house than ours, by virtue of total time spent inside it.
We both cried a lot this morning and I’m already catching things out of the corner of my eye that I immediately think is her, before remembering that she’s gone. All that’s left now is to clean up her litter boxes, vacuum up the seventy or so pounds of fur that she’s left around the house, and remember what a wonderful companion our kitty cat was.
All of the images of Psyche on flickr are here.