|Posted by: x.Faron||Posts: 1 - Joined: Thu Jun 29th, 2017 07:27 pm|
I lost my fur baby earlier this week in the worst way I could possibly imagine. I mean, there is no easy way, but the traumatic nature of his death is keeping me up at night and stopping me from eating. I can't function. I'm hoping it'll help to get it all out, in some sort of order, to begin processing what actually happened. So even if no one reads or replies to this, I'm doing it in an attempt to help myself...
So, I live in a first floor flat, and due to 'house rules' and whatever else I was never allowed to get a cat flap fitted. No matter, my boy was a good one and when he was ready to come in of a morning he would sit patiently at the back door and meow gently until I went down to collect him. Monday morning, I was in the bathroom and heard him. Straight away I knew something wasn't right. The meow was so loud, but sounded some distance away. I ran outside and after whistling and then following his meow's I tracked him down to a neighbours garden. I looked over the fence and saw him sprawled out on the grass. He wasn't moving but was meowing his little head off. I have never moved so fast as I raced around the corner and essentially broke into my neighbours garden to find him. He was clearly in distress but stopped meowing when I was sat beside him.
Now, in hindsight I wish I'd have done this next part so differently. I feel so guilty that I made a bad situation so much worse. He was essentially paralysed from the neck down. I quickly lifted up a back leg to check and it just flopped back down. What I should have done then was scream for help and then phone the emergency vet. Instead instinct took over and I scooped him up to give him a cuddle. I obviously worsened the situation as he then started having some sort of seizure, shaking and squirming uncontrollably (he ended up accidentally biting down on my thumb so hard that I spent the rest of the day in the hospital). There was my blood everywhere. He was coughing up green fluids. It was like he was chocking. It was literally the worst thing I have ever witnessed. My poor little baby in so much pain.
I was a wreck at this point, literally not knowing what to do. Not being able to think straight and make a decision. Not being able to act quickly enough at 6.30am in a neighbours garden on a Monday morning. A couple of minutes later he passed away. He must have been in so much pain and was so distressed.
I carried him back to my own garden and sat cuddling him for over an hour before my boyfriend found me.
After speaking with various vets and googling for hours we think he must have eaten some sort of poison (rat poison, anti-freeze, etc). He always was a nosey, greedy thing! Whilst I am grateful I managed to find him in time to spend those last few minutes together I can't help but feel my actions are the cause of his suffering. I shouldn't have picked him up. I should have been able to help him! I should have acted quicker.
My boy was only 2 years old. I adopted him when I moved out of the family home to the middle of nowhere on my own. He was my greatest companion and biggest comfort. Sometimes he was all that I had. Now I'm all on my own again.
My family came over to help me bury him that night, and now every time I walk past his little grave I break down all over again. It was my fault and now he's just been left to the dirt. I can't function properly without him. With all these thoughts. All this guilt.
Has anyone else experienced such a traumatic death? Advice? Support? Time machine so I can go back and fix it all?