Friday, July 30, 2010

Rainbow Bridge

Zamo and I's first hour together.


Our last hour together

This post will be short because it is extremely sad and we have covered the majority of the situation already.

On July 20th, 2010, Zamo lost his battle with renal failure. When I came home the night of the 19th and found him in the bathroom with water soaking him (probably his fluids that had leaked) and no strength left, barely enough to even get in and out of the small ledge of the shower, I feared that we had reached the point in treatment where enough was enough and there was nothing left to be done except set him free.

I sat with him all night and petted him and told him how much I loved him and how much joy and happiness he had brought me. I wrote him a letter, telling him how the moment he came into my life, I felt a cloud of sadness fall away and how he always made the sun shine on my face. When morning came, I struggled with the thought that this was the last time we would spend a morning together, that this was his last sunrise. I begged myself and God to please let his medicine get here and for it to be able to work instantly and make his anemia go away and give him back his strength and let me be with my baby longer. In the back of my mind and in my heart, I knew that the medicine wouldn't help him, it would only temporarily alleviate the weakness he was suffering from because of the extreme anemia and that it wouldn't start working for about 3 days after we started giving it to him. And worst of all, I knew that it was nothing but selfish of me to try to keep poking and prodding him with vitamins and medicines that would only prolong my time with him, not his enjoyment of life.

We called the doctor and the hardest decision I've ever had to make was made. At 5pm, we would make our way to the office to let Zamo end his suffering. I spent the day with Zamo, lying with him wherever he wanted to be, even taking him outside to lie in the sun and enjoy the outdoors one last time. Our vet is extremely caring and was very understanding with how hard this was for us and made sure that we were able to stay with Zamo for as long as we needed to. Zamo seemed to know why we were there. He seemed more at peace. I held my baby and rocked him and told him how special he is and how much he will always be so close to my heart and how much I love him. The doctor gave him a medicine to relax him and let him sleep and I held my baby while I felt him fall asleep. I held him when he got the final injection and I held him even after I felt his heart stop beating. I couldn't let him go.

It's been over a week now since we said goodbye and it's still so hard to think about losing someone so special and someone who made my life so amazing. The next morning, I woke up to the feeling of him jumping up on the bed and walking up it to my face, like he used to do every morning before he got sick. I was so happy, I opened my eyes and expected to find a purring little face next to mine, ready to lick my nose. But when he wasn't there, I was crushed. That whole morning routine of getting ready for work was impossibly sad. Going into the bathroom and not seeing his shadow appear outside the door, not having him come in and rub against my legs, then jump up onto my lap while I tried to use the toilet, not having to fight him off the toilet paper, all things I wished so much I was doing. Instead I sat on the toilet, hugging a roll of toilet paper and cried.

The more I think about feeling Zamo on the bed that morning, the more I realize that he WAS really there, he was coming to me in spirit and telling me that I made the right decision and that he was happy and free of his suffering and that when the time was right, we would be together again because our love was strong and everlasting. I knew it was ok for me to be so sad, but that I should be happy that I was able to give him such a peaceful and love filled crossing. He was not in pain, he was not hurt, he was not scared, he was surrounded by love and was very much at ease. It was certainly the best way for this sort of thing to happen.

I'm sorry to bring sadness to this silly place, but this is the story of my life and Zamo will always play a big role in it. I miss you little buddy, I always will. You made me complete when I was in pieces. I can't ever thank you enough for that.



R.I.P. Zamo
April 27th, 2008 - July 20, 2010

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