Ysabel is searching for him. She smells him all over the house, no way not, but he’s not here. She calls and there’s no answer.

Ysabel and Efanor have an interesting relationship. They were never what you’d call warm and cuddly with each other, though occasionally we’d catch them sleeping within touching distance. When we got Ysabel, she came into a…mature household of Elrond and Lynn’s beautiful Madam. She came from a cattery where there were mostly adult cats and never really got a chance to play/socialize there either.

A few months pass, Madam moved to Florida with Lynn, Elrond passed…and in came Efanor. Ysabel was certain we’d gotten her a walking talking squeaky toy. We were concerned at first that she’d hurt him, but she never did. He just rolled with the punches and came back for more. They never really fought, but they played in their own strange fashion.

She actually aged faster than he did. She has some health issues and was just never as athletic, and as he got larger than her, we had to be careful that he didn’t hurt her. He still wanted to play; she generally wasn’t much interested.

But they were bound in ways we only came to appreciate when we moved up here.

On the oft-documented drive from OKC to Spokane, we got separated. Carolyn was in her car with Ysabel, I was in my car with Efanor. The details of the separation and how we got back together are irrelevant, but suffice to say, I discovered we’d lost track of Carolyn when Efanor rushed to the back of the car and began calling. Before that, I was too busy watching heavy traffic.

His upset didn’t end until I finally got hold of Carolyn by phone at midnight. I was in Valentine NE, she was in Wall SD. Of course, he probably settled because I did, however that doesn’t explain why, the next morning when I pulled into the parking lot of Carolyn’s hotel, after several hours of calmly sleeping in his carrier, he was suddenly perched with his front paws on the dash calling out. Meanwhile, Ysabel, in the hotel room, was at the window. This…before I was anywhere near the room.

There were other hints of a connection between them over the years, but nothing quite this curious. But they’ve never really been apart before. And now, he’s gone and I’m still here and her universe just…isn’t right.

Cat’s live in the Now, but her Now is including the confusing mixed signals of Efanor smell to trigger awareness, and no Efanor. And there’s no way to explain to her.

Maybe it’s time for a serious spring cleaning. Probably do us all good…

And I’m completely at peace with it.

This might well be more information than most people want, but for someone facing this situation for the first time, my experience today might be helpful.

I thought this AM that he was gone. His breathing was that shallow. But when I turned on the light, he rallied once more, drank and piddled, but had absolutely no interest in food. And when I’d pick him up, he was just…limp. I called the vet and she concurred that it was probably time, but I still couldn’t quite commit. I hung up, went to pick him up, and knew…it was. So I called the vet back and made the appointment with time to dig his grave before I left.

That may sound odd, but it was on purpose. I’d picked the spot the night before, a spot with a beautiful view of the waterfall, and lying under the Japanese Maple, with his head pointed toward a miniature rose, in the same orientation to the waterfall that he’d use when sitting in my work chair. He loved flowers…he’d sit with his nose buried in the bouquets of roses I’d bring in…and inside he had a little palm tree that he’d sleep under as a kitten. Because of the Maple which spreads and hugs the ground there was a beautiful area that can’t be used for plants and it’s large enough that, when the time comes, Ysabel can join him.

I actually waited to dig it until I knew when. I didn’t want to pass a hole every day (eeewww) but I wanted the spot prepared so I could lay him to rest as soon as I returned home. It also gave me some activity to get my adrenaline going which helps with the stress, and kept me from sitting around with him in my lap sobbing which would do little more than upset him.

Curiously, I found, when I went back inside to cuddle him for the final few times, that the tears that had been so much in the foreground for several days, were gone. I was at peace and could just enjoy him. He was very content to just lie in my arms and be scritched. His world had been reduced to that kind of input.

Sharon, bless her heart, called from work and came over to drive us to the vet. I am doubly grateful in retrospect because she was able to give me some real insight into what I’d sensed—what I call “telling me it’s time.” This was really useful information because one of my primary goals in choosing the right time was wanting to cause him as little stress as possible. This meant a time when I could take him to the vet’s without him being particularly aware of it, but before the bodily strains were causing him pain and/or fear. What she could tell…from his dilated pupils and other signs, was that hypoxia (a depletion of oxygen) had set in. (Considering his red cell count, it’s amazing it didn’t set in sooner.) The important thing about this is, his awareness was very limited. He’d register touch and sound, he knew me, but wasn’t really putting much together. Basically, the normal “now” of kitty reality increases tenfold. That’s why he was so content to simply lie there being petted.

The reason this point is so significant is that it meant I could take him to the vet without him building up stress. A moment of what’s unusual could cause a spike of fear, but it wouldn’t last. I hoped.

This plan ended up better than I dared hope.

We got some final pics (as you can see, he still looks wonderful) wrapped him in his blanket from the chair in the office and took him to the car. We opted to use our car rather than Sharon’s (though we were very grateful to have Sharon to drive) because that’s like his second home. It was unusual for him not to go in his carrier, but I wanted to hold him as long as I could and while there was some confusion on his part as we went to the car, as soon as I sat and began to pet him, he was calm and content. Even purring.

At the vet’s Carolyn (I’m so lucky) went in and took care of the paperwork while Efanor and I stayed in the car with Sharon. We went right in and he was, as he’d been on Monday when he’d been perfectly aware, quite calm. I think it’s really important to find a vet where your pet feels comfortable. This is different for every animal and the place we’d been taking them had gone from “comfortable” to “stressful” over the last few years. I’m so glad we discovered this one at such a timely moment. Anyway, I was concerned when the vet wanted to take him away to put in the IV catheter. I understand they have the whole thing set up in the back, but I didn’t want to stress him. Thinking, however, of what Sharon had said about his mental state, I agreed to let them take him away.

Fortunately, it went very quickly and he was relatively relaxed in the vet’s arms as she took him away and he came back a little stressed, however the moment he was back with me, he reverted to calm and in that strange little zone he’d found.

He passed quickly and quietly. I wrapped him in his blue blanket, took him to the car and we took him home to his little spot beneath the maple. We gave him the rest of his smoochies to share with Elrond, Effy and Khym, and Carolyn gave him his traditional Roman three handfuls of dirt, one for heaven, one for earth and one for the world below. By Roman tradition, this was to show that he had someone to care enough to bury him.

Then we lighted a candle in the lantern, said goodnight and covered him up.

And for the first time in several days, I was hungry. We went to our favorite watering hole, the Swinging Door, had lunch and got one of our favorite, craziest waitresses. She and Sharon had us rolling in the aisles. We raised a glass to our darling fuzzy friend…and began discussing his next incarnation: Eushu.

Don’t be surprised if the next pic you see here is of a little black kitten….

[View with PicLens]

And doing fine, as you can see from the pics I just took. For how long remains to be seen.

Basically, his bone marrow has ceased to function. All his blood counts are tanked. It’s not FIV or AIDS, thank goodness, which pretty much leaves cancer. He’s had a steroid shot and we’ll keep our fingers crossed that we can buy him some quality time, but it is just a matter of time.

He’s alert, moving about easily and wonder of wonders, the one packet of smoochies I’ve been hoarding for years actually managed to get his attention. He ate several which is more than he’s eaten for two days. He’s not going to get well, but at least he’ll have a few more…days? Weeks? who knows at this point? All depends on if he starts eating. If not…well, he’s made his decision.

I thank you all for you kind wishes. Am I upset? How not? He’s been my darling companion through some pretty strange times both wonderful and stressful. But he also counts on me not to put him through a bunch of stuff he doesn’t understand, and because he counts on me, I’ll manage. I figure, like Elrond and Venus before him, when the time comes, he’ll let me know.