The Broken Heart That Stays

                 As a child, I didn’t have many friends. I was awkward, raised by lower/middle class parents. An only child who didn’t wear the clothes or shoes branded by popular names like Tommy Hilfiger or even Levi’s! I went to school with kids whose parents had some money. They were from wealthy ranching or oilfield families and they set the bar when it came to what was considered popular or not. I was often bullied for what I wore, how my hair was styled, and even…. If I happened to get the “puke tray” at lunch. I often sat alone. I couldn’t wait to get home because my true friends waited for me there. The 4 legged friends who loved me unconditionally, waited for me patiently, and celebrated my arrival each afternoon!

                I can’t tell you how many pets I’ve owned. Sambo the blue heeler. Shadow the aussie mix. Flash was a black lab. Sugar was a poodle, Socks a mutt. I had at least TWO black cats named Spooky. I had a tabby named Panda. A Siamese named Shakey. Mayatuk was a malamute, Tuiak a husky. Zeus was another black cat. I had an angora goat for a short time – forgot his name. Heidi was a cockatiel, Lucy was a sun conure. We had another parrot, also a name I can’t remember…. I even had a fish (Dragon) that I had a special bond with. Hamsters. Rabbits. I played with wild lizards and attempted to rehabilitate wild birds.

                For the last 17 years, I had the absolute privilege of sharing my life with a small white cat named Athena. Stevie was only 2 when I decided she needed a kitten to grow up with. So we found a lady in Shreveport, LA who had a litter and we went to pick one out. I don’t know what exactly led to us settling for Athena, but we did and we took her home. She was tiny – and feisty (at all the wrong times.) I was a single mother, and this mischievous kitten was running zoomies and attacking my feet at 0230 in the morning when ALL I needed was sleep so I could get up and get Stevie and myself ready for daycare and work the next day! One afternoon, I came home and could smell cat urine and noticed a wet spot in the middle of my bed. I was furious, and my patience was worn so thin. I kicked her out. Opened the front door and set her out and closed the door behind her. I was done. A short time later there was a knock at the door and it was the neighbor asking if a little white kitten belonged to us. So… she was back. For good.

                In early 2006, I had to deploy to Diego Garcia. Zeus and Athena went to stay with a guy in Dallas while I was gone. That short stay turned into a year because I received orders to Germany and had to worry about moving household goods and the two of us overseas! FINALLY, December of 2006…. Nico, Stevie and I drove to Frankfurt to the airport and retrieved my furbabies. I truly believe they remembered us and were so happy to FINALLY be home.

                Athena loved life in Europe. We had these amazing wall radiators and they sold cat beds that sort of folded over the top of them so she was more than happy to curl up and enjoy the warmth. Wide windowsills allowed her the perfect views from our third floor apartment. But most of all, she enjoyed being the nanny. When Ava and Victoria were born, she was always nearby to lick up any spilled milk. And when I deployed, she’d alternate which of the kids’ pillows she slept on, to keep an eye over them until I came back home.

                Sometimes I wonder if people get as attached to animals as I did to mine. I don’t see a dog or a cat when I look into the eyes of my furries. I see my best friends. I see unconditional love staring back at me. (Well…. Maybe not Phoenix. He only loves me when food’s involved.) So it isn’t any wonder that my heart is absolutely broken after having lost my sweet sidekick this past Monday.

                Athena has been in a bit of pain for some time. I knew that at 16/17 years of age, she’d start slowing down. I’d googled what to expect at the end of the journey so I could prepare myself when the day came. My good friend was always a sound word of advice and strong support when it came to decision making. I ALMOST made the call too soon, but the first vet said she was still looking ok for being so old so I called it off! The second time resulted in a dental, some awesome bloodwork results, but an iffy tumor in her jaw. The third time…. Was the last time.

                I’d watched Athena’s face slowly grow after her tooth extraction. The vet had warned me that it might possibly be cancer because the mass was very firm (felt like bone.) It didn’t concern me until it started spreading across the entire bottom of her jaw and my worst fear was that it would make breathing difficult for her. She would paw at her mouth after eating just a bit so I knew it had to be painful. I thought back to my aunt who fought her own battle with oral cancer and how she’d tell me that just talking on the phone was extremely painful. I’d told the kids to love Athena a little extra, because I’d be taking her soon – at the last minute. I didn’t want to schedule a specific day and then spend a week counting down her lasts. It was unbearable enough as it was.

                So this past Monday, I went to work as usual. I told myself that “today will be the day.” Reminded myself all day that it’s going to be so hard, but that I’m doing it for her because she doesn’t deserve to suffer. I worked my shift and came home and found her sleeping in the middle of Ava’s bed. I went to the kitchen and got a small bowl and cut open one of her treats and squeezed it into the bowl and gave that to her. I freshened up her leftover canned food and made sure she was content with a happy tummy. I brushed her (she LOVED brushes!) and didn’t stop until her body language told me she’d had enough. She curled back up on the bed and slept.

                I’d already spoken to the vet the previous week and she said to bring her in around 245pm on any day… the clinic would be quieter because that was during her surgery hours. It was only 145pm. So I cleaned. Furiously. I made all the beds and started the laundry and took out the trash and loaded the dishwasher. And I cried. Oh my, I cried. And every 5 minutes I’d go stand in Ava’s doorway and look at my girl sleeping on the bed and I’d cry some more. And I took pictures. And I apologized. And when it was 230pm, I got the cat carrier down from the closet and loaded her up and we went.

                I won’t write the details of her final hour in life. Those are things I wish to forget. But a chunk of my broken heart will always be in that room, on that table. I pet her for as long as possible and reassured her over and over and over that everything would be ok. Now, I’m praying with ALL my being that I will see her again someday, beyond the rainbow bridge. 

                Some people say they don’t want pets because they want to avoid this heartache. For a brief moment in the last few days, I thought that maybe they were right. But then I look into the eyes of Phoenix, Ledger and Logan and I see the love that they provide (and ask for in return) and I couldn’t imagine life without that. I guess the solution is finding a way to live with the broken heart that stays.