They take me into a clean, sterile room with a weird cat picture hanging up. As I make light conversation he hears my voice through the door, down the hall and in another room. I can hear his cries. Louder, louder. I feel his panic, his pain. He’s calling for me and my heart is breaking. I think of my mother’s stories from when she would drop me off at daycare and she would stand outside and listen to me cry and cry. And her heart would break.
They finally brought my Moose into the room and his tail beat against the wall, the cabinets, myself, the vet technician. He was so happy. When we didn’t start leaving he sat as close to me as he could and cried, shoving his head into me. The vet comes into the room and Moose leans deeper into me, finally collapsing on the floor and wrapping his paws around my foot, his head around my leg. So much love.
She tells me he’s got torn muscles in the knees of his back legs, the ligaments on the outside building up to compensate and limiting his mobility. They’re arthritic. His front right leg has a mass in his shoulder that would usually spark a discussion about the benefits of amputation, if it weren’t for his one good leg which is showing wear in the shoulder because it’s bearing the weight of the other 3 legs. He’s weak. He’s in pain. If anything happens to any one leg, the other 3 aren’t strong enough to support him anymore. Which is why he collapses. Which is why he is crying.
She gives me some meds, and we order some allergy medicine for him to be delivered. We leave and he’s so happy. I get the ramp out and he uses it without a fuss; he knows he can’t get in the car anymore without it. On the way home I cry. Quite a bit. I pour so much of my love into my sweet boy. My protector. My companion.
I think about how the depth at which we love is the depth to which we might feel pain, sorrow, grief. I momentarily doubt it being worth it. And then I look at him and my heart overflows with compassion and affection. Our eyes meet and I see his pain but also his love and I know that whatever happens, he has lived a life in which he has been well loved, and taught me how to love in the process. My dear, sweet Moose. How different life would have been without you.