Losing the Last Part of Your Parent

Have you ever lost a loved one and all that remained were the pets they adored? It’s a tug-at-your-heartstrings situation that I navigated two years ago when my mom passed away.

After placing her young and vibrant cat with a loving family, I was left with her somewhat rotund and tuxedo-marked sister. She was impeccably cared for but sixteen years old and completely deaf.

Those latter qualities made her an undesirable candidate for adoption into any other home — not that I would have allowed that.

We knew Lacy; she was part of each visit to Mom’s home for sixteen years. My two young boys would storm into the small but cozy space and begin their search for the cats who bolted under the bed as soon as they heard our car door.

During our last two years of visiting, Lacy remained perched on her padded windowsill ledge in the sun, a sure sign she was no longer hearing our boisterous entrance.

Now the boys could pet her to their heart’s content.

Mom had two wills drawn up and both lived in my possession. One said her cats were to be euthanized at her demise, one did not. I can’t think of a worse ordeal after losing my mom than turning around and killing her cats.

Lacy was the last remnant of the woman who’d been in my life for forty-six years so I opted to adhere to the will that allowed Lacy to relocate to my home.

The musical chairs of step-cats

Lacy’s move-in came with a great amount of cat-shuffling. Her new home had two brother-cats who were three-years-old. In human years they were obnoxious teenagers. Their idea of playing was sneaking up on a deaf, senior citizen-cat which made me worry about her ancient heart.

She’d hiss and growl but they were unswayed — hoping she’d eventually get onboard and play with them. When they sidled up next to her in our narrow hallway, she’d give them a preemptive face-bat with her paw; causing them to slink away in utter confusion.

To keep the peace and her anxiety at bay, Lacy spent her daylight hours in my daughter’s room while the boys roamed free. Around 9pm each night, the boys were relocated to the basement, giving Lacy the rest of the house until sunrise; and the chance to drink from the boys’ water dish.

For reasons only a cat knows, theirs was better than her own.

On nice days I’d shut Lacy on the back porch to soak in the sun in peace; the faces of her jealous brothers pressed up against the glass.

Cat-care experts

My childhood experiences with cat-caring ran deep, and though a bit of a hassle, I knew the job well. I couldn’t keep up with the expensive food that Mom purchased, but Lacy got way more cat treats than my mom ever would have allowed.

I am a sucker for spoiling felines.

The cat-loving genes were passed down and my teenaged daughter became very attached to Lacy. Each month she’d buy her new collars, toys, and outfits. Unfortunately, we never got to use the new Christmas stocking bought for her a month before the holiday.

After almost two years with us, Lacy stopped eating, but she continued to frequent the watering hole. My Spidey-senses told me she’d be joining my mom soon, so we focused on helping her feel loved and comfortable.

I learned young that prying open an elderly cat’s mouth to receive medication was a torture I would not replay in my own home. I let everyone know I would not drag out the end.

On the day that Lacy stopped drinking, I made the appointment. I put her step-brothers in the basement and she enjoyed a peaceful last morning basking in the sun on the living room floor.

We said an emotional but harmonious goodbye while she laid in her favorite bed; lovingly stroked by the women who cared for her beyond measure.

The vet helped her find a sleep that hopefully ended in a bounding reunion into the loving lap of my Mom.

I had so many encouraging words I wanted to share with my daughter for taking such good care of Lacy in her last two years, but all I could eek out was,“Gran would be so proud of you.”

Losing a parent is the worst; losing that parent’s pet is a close second. I know Mom would indeed be proud of all we rearranged in our home to keep her baby thriving in the sunset of her life. And Lacy was truly a blessing to us as well.

The joy of cat snuggles and their presence in an otherwise empty home, far outweighs the torture of their passing.

So we are back to two cats, for now…

And no, sweet daughter, I’m still not getting you a dog.