This week we gave our beloved cat Bethesda a good death with a visiting hospice vet. Bethesda was 19, and suffering from both kidney disease and suspected GI cancer. Her last days were full of cuddles, treats, and tuna fish.
We will memorialize her with a set of long chimes (the kind that gong like you’re in a monastery). We’re going to hang them over our deck where we can hear them year-round. Hubby and I spend our summer evenings there, eating dinner at an outdoor table and reading an audio book most nights June through September, so it’s really perfect.
I adopted Bethesda from the Capitol Area Humane Society at the age of six weeks. The source of her name is two-fold: first, it’s a biblical reference meaning well of healing, which is what she was for me. I adopted her after losing a very important person in my life: a woman named Ruth who was a professor at MSU. I worked for her as a Research Assistant and then transitioned into providing care for her and her husband John during their last years. I was with both of them when they died. Shortly afterward, I adopted Bethesda.
Also, there’s a recurring character by that name in a series of mystery books by Steven Saylor about a first century Roman detective named Gordianus the Finder.
I’ve told Hubby it’s time for him to step up to the plate. Now that Bethesda has moved out of her position as head of the family, he’ll have to see if his paws are big enough to fill in for her. We celebrate 17 years of marriage this year, but she came first.
Hands-down the worst part of the whole process was the wait. We didn’t schedule our appointment with Harmony Hospice until five days after we made the decision to put her to sleep. I wanted time to say goodbye. But I’d known this day was coming for several months and I was actually ready. Those five days ramped up a hellish anxiety for the whole household. Luckily, Dr. Reese was wonderful and we were so fortunate to share our last moments with Bethesda with her.
She will be missed dearly.
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