Goodbye, Mina

We put our oldest pet to sleep today. Her name is Minachi but we fondly call her, Mina. She was 16 years old. She was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism three years ago but we got it under control through medication and a special diet. Late last year, she was diagnosed with renal failure so we changed medication and went on another special diet.

We made frequent visits to the vet to monitor her condition. And for a couple of months, she was responding well to treatment and had even gained weight. She was a happy, grumpy old cat albeit with incontinence problems. Of course, the vet gave us the reality check. He reminded us that with her age and her illness, the recovery may not last long and we would have to make a very crucial decision when the time comes.

Indeed, this thought was always at the back of our minds every time we hear the old girl meowing for food at 9am every morning, every time we see her sunning herself in the backyard or walking alongside our youngest pet, Tobi. "The old girl may have used up her 9 lives and she might be nearing the end soon. One day she'll tell us when will be the right time," we said to each other. It was our way of preparing ourselves for the inevitable.

One quiet day, about two years ago, I saw her sleeping on one side of the family room couch with Momo on the other side. She never got along with Momo (ever), but on that day she was comfortably napping while Momo sat quietly, staring at the birds in our the backyard. I joined them and sat near Mina. I patted her head and out of the blue, I cried. I suddenly saw how old she really was.

The cat who had chosen us to be her guardians 10 years ago, the one who comforted me in my bouts of homesickness, was really getting old and fragile. My husband came in and asked me what was the matter and all I could say was: "Mina is so old. One day she's going to die and leave us." And he just nodded. Probably dumbfounded at his wife's show of unexpected sadness.

But she gave us a few more months of her life and I believe deep in my heart that she waited until my son's death anniversary had passed before she told us. It was as if she knew how difficult that time was for us. So she waited another week to let us get back to our center and perhaps, prepare us for her passing.

And so today was the day she let us know. She woke us up as usual but this time her meows were different. It wasn't urgent like wanting food. It was low, drawn-out and sad. I prepared her food but she refused to eat it and only drank water. She continued with her low meowing even when I stroked her. There were quite a few times she stopped and walked around. But I soon observed that she was unusually listless. She didn't want to stay in one place and it was as if she was trying to find a hiding place.

My husband suggested a trip to the vet to find out what was happening. But somehow I knew. I knew that she was telling us it was time. I told my husband what was on my mind. And I saw the sad realization on his face when he said: "I'll call the vet right now."

The vet clinic was busy but we were glad they were able to accommodate us on such short notice. We let Mina roam the house and the backyard one last time. We let her see Tobi and Momo before we put her in her carrier and drove off to the clinic. The trip there was so difficult. I tried to keep it together but I couldn't help but cry. I know Mina had such a long and fruitful life but that thought didn't stop the grief from coming like a ton of bricks falling on my heart.

We had to wait with several cat and dog owners in the clinic's waiting room. One guy asked us what was wrong with our cat and my husband murmured an answer. I tried to tune out people when I was there because I didn't want to lose it and say, "My cat is going to die today." How morbid could that be. I just sat there beside Mina's carrier, hugging a bright yellow towel we plan to wrap her in after. The guy realized what we were there for and said, "I'm sorry about your cat," before he left.

We finally got to see the vet after a few more minutes of uncomfortably waiting in that room full of alive and happy pets. He was very professional about the whole thing and walked us through the process efficiently. When we took Mina out of the carrier, she immediately went on the spread-out towel and laid on it. I made her comfortable and wrapped the towel around her. I stroked her head and spoke to her: "It's gonna be alright now, old girl. It will be over soon."

The vet gave her a sedative and then left for a while. Mina remained motionless as we stroked her. Then the vet came back with the final shot and it was all over. She had gone peacefully. We carefully wrapped her in our bright yellow towel and transported her to a crematorium. Before we left her body with the guy who does the cremating, I whispered to her: "Goodbye, Mina, and thank you for all the joy you brought to our lives. We love you. Kai will take care of you from now on."