Mar 312015
 

  

Out last selfie together, from last night. 

We said goodbye to Marcy today. It was the hardest, but most humane, decision I have ever made. She was 17, and I know that I have to be thankful that I was given that much time with her. She was the best pet I have ever had and my bond with her was borderline psychotic—even back in the day, my friends would be like, “God help us when Marcy dies, Erin is going to need a straight jacket.” She was so evil to 99.9% of the world that most people thought she might even be immortal. 

The .1% is Henry. He is the only one she ever willingly showed affection to. I don’t know how Marcy or I would have gotten through this without Henry. 

When she grew that tumor almost two years ago, we thought that was it for sure, a death sentence. But she kept on keeping on, and it wasn’t until the last few months that we really began to notice weight loss. She was still eating and drinking though, and acting like herself, just an elderly version of herself. Most importantly, she didn’t seem to be in pain and she was still out and about.

But on Friday, she seemed weird. For one, she wasn’t trying to attack me when I put my hand near her. Her appetite had dwindled. She was still eating a little, drinking normal, and peeing and pooping, though. On Sunday, she tried to jump up on the table and missed. 

It was heartbreaking. 

So I thought about it all day at work, how I was going to have to make that decision soon. I just didn’t realize how soon. By the time I came home, she could barely walk and www trying to meow but it sounded so sad. I sat with her on the floor and Henry called the vet. We knew we couldn’t let it go any longer. It wasn’t fair to her. And if she had deteriorated that much in a weekend, who knew how much time she had left. 

We made the appointment for today and Henry and I took turns sleeping with her on the couch. The moment we would take our hands off her, she would cry and struggle to sit up. And then she just couldn’t walk at all. 

She and I have been together since 1998. She was my first roommate. EVERYONE knew Marcy—how could they not? She inserted herself in every social situation. Whether they liked her was another story, though. Ha. She drew her fair share of blood over the years. 

Now we’re home and this house has never felt emptier. This is the first time in my entire life that I have not had a pet. But, losing four in the span of three years has really traumatized me. I think I’m going to need some time. 

Marcy loved Frostys and now I’m so angry at myself for not thinking to get her one last Frosty. Please don’t hate me, Marcy. :(  

There will never be another Marcy. 

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  13 Responses to “And then there were none. ”

  1. You did the right thing Erin! I have been thinking about you all day! Reading this post made me cry. I know how much it hurts and it will for a while. You were a great kitty parent and loved the heck out of her!! I am here if you need anything or even a drinking buddy! Hang in there! If it helps a bit I told Glenn that Marcy wasn’t doing well and that’s probably why you weren’t at work today and I think he felt bad. Plus I saw him on your blog..(i think he has a soft spot in his heart for you or maybe just Marcy.) Sending love from Conflicts! We miss you! :)

    • Thank you so much for letting me talk about it on Monday! It was the hardest call I’ve ever had to make, but I know it was right, and I think she knew too. It was really hard watching her go from such a regal cat to so weak and frail :(
      Glenn better be nice to me today!!

  2. R.I.P. Marcy :(
    You were beautiful and fierce and did exactly what you wanted. We could all learn a thing or two from you, especially on the topic of blood and passive-aggressiveness.

  3. I’m sorry sorry for your loss. Our pets become a part of us, and become so much more than just a pet. She will always be with you in you, Henry’s and your son’s heart. Never forget her and she will be immortal :) Sending you all love and hugs.

  4. I’m so sorry, Erin. As the owner of an evil cat who hates me and loves my husband, I can understand the swirl of emotions you must be experiencing right now. Hobbes has been my bloodthirsty nemisis for 14 years, but I love that orange son of a bitch. And when he goes (I’m thinking he’s got a good 20 years left) I will be destroyed. Stay strong, my friend. And check around your house…in your favorite shoes…on top of an art project in progress. I bet Marcy left you a hairball or pile of puke….as only a dick-cat who knows it was her time to go would do. (hugs)

  5. I have no words. My heart goes out to you. You were all lucky to have each other. That kind of relationship is a blessing that many creatures (and I’m including humans, as well as the feline variety) may never experience. Take joy from the years you had together…and take the time to mourn as you see fit. I’m terrible at this. Take care, all of you.

  6. A hard thing to do, but the right thing to do for a friend.

  7. It’s several hours later and I’m still at a loss for words…M & I were just GChatting over this topic and our hearts go out to you, and Chooch and Henry.
    Oh Erin, I don’t even know how or where to start, this is news is just so sad, even though we knew this day would come, it is still so painful to process.
    Marcy is such a huge part of you, and of your family. I’m very thankful we were able to meet her after Chooch was born (I think we only saw Marcy during our visit….I may have to look back at our blogs from 2007…). You are an amazing cat parent and she lived a luxurious feline life in Pittsburgh.
    I’m happy Henry was there for you this weekend during this difficult time, and was able to help you make this impossible, but necessary decision. Your love of your cats and the stories you shared about all of them, will last forever in all our hearts. The selfie’s for example, always made me smile. Much love and support to you (and Henry and Chooch) during this time. If you ever need a friend and another cat lover’s ear, you know where to turn. I know how much Marcy means to you, and you to her. May Marcy rest in peace.

  8. Oh sweetie… I am so sorry. I’ve had to make this decision a few times and even though it was what needed to be done I still feel bad to this day. But just know that you did what was best for her and you gave her a long, loving life. ((hugs))

  9. I am so incredibly sorry. I can’t even say that enough. I know how hard it is to lose a pet, and to have to be the one to make the decision to let them go. It’s awful. Even knowing you did the right thing, the pain is fierce.

    I wish I was there to hug you and take you for cupcakes or something. Or just cry with you. :'(

    Rest in peace Marcy. You will be missed, intensely.

  10. Everyone DID know Marcy. Every time one of us visited you, she was there being all pissy at us and swiping at us. But that’s why we all loved her, none more than you. I still love that one picture of Riley sleeping all funny because he didn’t want to move Marcy off his pillow.

    It’s really good that you guys slept with her on that last night because then she could be comforted and not so afraid. What a huge void must be in your house and your hearts right now. I’m so sorry.

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