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Ernie died Wednesday night. Mom called me at work yesterday morning to tell me.

Someone once described grief as an almost physical blow. They were right. I felt so sad, and yet so relieved all at once. He was an old kitty, and from what she told me, he was hurting. He had a heart condition, and was having a stroke when they brought him in, his lungs filled with fluid, gasping for breath and not able to stand. And even though it killed her, Mom told the vet to put him to sleep. The only thing that would have saved him was a heart transplant, and cats don't have that option. So they held him while he died, and Dad will bury him in the yard.

I wasn't there. Horrible as it seems, I'm glad I wasn't. I have a hard enough time imagining it that I don't think I could handle seeing it.

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( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
serendith
Mar. 22nd, 2003 04:44 pm (UTC)
I was with my dog when he died and it nearly killed me. One moment he was fine and looking at me and the next he had a seizure and passed on ... seeing something like that never leaves you. I was happy I was there for him - but I wish that was not my last memory of him.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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