Dinky is gone.
It was relatively quick and (I hope) painless. She spent most of the day sleeping in the bed, nestled between two hot water bottles . When I came in from working in the shop, I took her to the litter box, but she just lay down, too weak to stand. That's when I knew it wouldn't be long for her.
I took her back to bed and made a little nest for her, then lay with her, waiting for the end of this life to come for her. She had a very brief spat of crying out -- more in confusion--I pray--than pain, but it passed quickly and she fell into semi-consciousness. Her breathing grew slow and deep. And then, about a quarter-hour after six, she gave a little push against me with her paws and I knew that was it. She was gone.
My sweet, spunky little calico...
I'm going to miss her forever.
But I am glad that the long process that began with the renal failure diagnosis last spring is over and that for her there will be no more needles and no more droppers of medicine. I am glad it was a quick decline for her with no agonized lingering.
And that the last thing she heard was me telling her how much I loved her. She can carry that knowledge into the forever with her, where I trust she waits for me at the end of time.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006