Hale-Bopp finally passed away on Monday night (with the help of the vet) at my place. Many of you at the gathering last summer knew she had cancer and the vet said most cats with this form of cancer pass within 30-60 days, so she definitely beat the odds for a while. But she finally quit eating, was losing weight and getting weak. It was the right time.
I got her in the fall of 1996. Found her at the end of a cross country practice. A student suggested the name Hale-Bopp since I had been using this new fangled thing called the "internet" and showing them pictures of this incoming comet since the beginning of the 95-96 school year.
A few days after taking her home, I got the chicken pox. This little (still unnamed at the time) furball wouldn't leave me alone, fearful that I would die on her and she would be homeless again. Staying home from work for a week was kind of fortunate in the long run, provided great bonding time.
Bopp was my first cat and different than pets we had growing up. We had dogs. We got one when I was about five and it died only a few weeks after we got it. I barely remember it. Second one we got shortly thereafter and it only lived about three years. I was the one who found it dead in the morning (heart defect the autopsy said). I remember that, but I was still young. Third dog lived until I graduated college and moved out before she passed.
But when you look at it a certain way, Bopp was my first pet. When you are a kid, your parents really dictate the pet situation. They choose the pets, care for them (even if they make some of the pet care your chores) take them to the vet and ultimately decide end of life issues. When you are finally on your own, then you get the full responsibility for the health and well being of an animal, including doing the right thing at the end.
The vet came over Monday night around 7pm (yes, my vet makes housecalls in the evening if needed). Bopp didn't even fight when they shaved her leg for the IV, a sure sign it was the right time. As sad as it was, I still laughed a little at how loopy she got from the first sedative. There can be humor even at that time. She passed sitting in my lap.
My vet is a good guy. Vets deal with grieving pet owners on a regular basis. He did start getting a little spiritual, but not in a pushy/evangelizing way. I gently told him that was not necessary, I was an atheist and would take comfort in this being a natural part of life (although maybe not right now). He did the right thing and let me grieve my own way.
Bopp is being cremated and I will take her ashes to Florida and scatter her ashes after a run where I found her.
Good bye, Bopp. You will always be lovingly remembered.