My heart is broken. Yesterday, Aragorn, our 19 year old black cat, went on his final journey. He was an old cat, so logically, I knew this was going to happen in the near-ish future. Adam and I had frequent discussions about it, but it still managed to completely blindside us.
I think because, despite his age, he managed to maintain a young face and bright, alert eyes. Over the last year or so, he had transitioned into that scrawny cat phase, but despite that, his appetite was still a dominant force of his personality. He still had an impressive turn of speed when his food was being prepared.
I always said that when Aragorn lost his interest in food, it would be a sign that we didn't have long left with him.
Just over a week ago, we noticed he was struggling with his walking. He lost interest in pretty much everything, spent even more time sleeping, and hardly eating. His breathing became fast.
We had read up on the signs to look out for that indicate that an elderly cat is near its time and Aragorn ticked all of them.
Adam and I spent most of last Sunday just being close to him, crying, and having difficult conversations. It was overwhelming and unreal. How can something realistically, quite unsurprising, be so sudden and so shocking? Only a few days before, his appetite was still a dominant motivator for him, still staring me out to feed him. We went from having a conversation about needing to trim his claws, to talking about euthanasia.
Seeing him leaving his food and staying in bed, was so heartbreaking. I bought him some tubes of mushy treats that he initially got quite excited about and enthusiastically licked direct from the tube. His new normal became staying in bed, occasionally getting up for some water, a bite or two of food, and going to the litter tray.
It was a week of limbo. We wanted to appreciate the time we had left with him and desperately wanted to keep him with us, yet absolutely not wanting him to suffer and wanting to give him an easy release. We had this weird, temporary new normal of coming downstairs in the morning, dreading if we would find him, gone, in his bed, whilst also feeling like if he had, it would be a peaceful and kind way to go. Then there was the relief of seeing him look up at me. We would regularly go over to see him in his bed to give him strokes. Every time he would start purring. Still happy to see his people.
That last, dreadful week, I already felt like I was in a state of mourning because so much of what made up Aragorn's personality had dwindled. The absence of him begging for food was so jarring. I think a part of him recognised that he should be interested and he would wander over to his food, have a perfunctory lick or bite, then go back to bed. His body just wasn't up to it any more. He had already lost his essence.
I already was missing his weight in my lap. He was such a tactile boy, he would usually be cuddling one of us but it was obviously less effort for him to stay in his bed and we wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.
We knew it was getting near to his time. He wasn't living a life. We were all just marking time.
On Friday morning, Adam made the call to Cloud 9 Vets to arrange for a vet to come to the house to help him on his way. They initially offered 7:30 that same evening but that didn't feel right so they went away to try to arrange another day. After that first phone call, for the first time in a while, Aragorn actually walked into the living room and sat in my lap for an hour. Later on, when Adam had the final phone call confirming the time of 3pm yesterday, he came in again and sat either in my lap or right next to me on a blanket for about four hours. We dimmed the lights and had some mellow music playing. We felt some comfort from this because it was like we were getting his approval. I absolutely cherished every second of that time.
Sunday was this awful thing of counting down the hours until the vet arrived. A few minutes before they were due to arrive, Adam picked Aragorn up, which I could see just broke his heart, and brought him and his bed into the living room. He placed him in my lap and I had a few minutes of just being able to hold him.
The vet arrived on time. She was wonderful. Very compassionate. She gave him some strokes to introduce herself to him and she asked us about him. We told her how old he was and what he had been like for the last week. She said she could see how thin he was and with the way that he was breathing that it was probably his heart that was failing.
She explained what would be happening. She would give an injection in his tummy to sedate him. Then, after that had taken effect, she would deliver the final injection. She said the sedative would take around 20 minutes to take effect. My brave boy didn't even flinch during the sedative injection and it took effect almost immediately. My poor boy, in those last couple of days, we hardly ever saw him sleeping. He was always awake, sat in his bed. I think his breathing had become such that he wasn't able to properly rest. He was ready. I felt his head sink into my lap and he was so still. I stroked him constantly and told him how much of a good boy he had been and how much we loved him.
The vet gently gave him the last injection and listened to his heart and told us quietly that he had gone.
I kept him in my lap and held him. The vet stayed with us for a few minutes and asked to see some photos of him so she could see what he was like when he was in good health. That was lovely. And despite how thin he was she said that he didn't look old in his face at all.
About 10 minutes after the vet had left, the Graham from Companions Pet Crematorium came. He was very gentle and kind. He asked us about him and he too was impressed by his age and how you wouldn't believe he was as old as he was, and how impressive it was to reach such an age.
He went through the process with us. We chose a casket for his ashes. A wooden sleeping black cat. They will take a paw print for us and take a clipping of his fur. When his ashes are ready, they will bring him back to us.
As awful as the whole thing is, as an experience, it was about as positive as something like this can be. We were treated with such kindness and compassion, by both the vet and the representative from the pet crematorium. Aragorn had never been ill before, so other than when he was neutered in his first year, he had never needed to see a vet so we really didn't want to have to take him out of the house for the euthanasia . He was so thin and tired at that point, I really believe that being taken out of the house would have killed him outright with the stress.
Instead, I got to hold him quietly in my arms and he very gently and peacefully went to sleep.
Adam placed him in his bed on his blanket and wanted to be the one to carry his boy out to the car. Then he was gone.
We held each other and sobbed.
My heart is broken. But it is also full. I miss him so much but I feel honoured that we were able to give him a peaceful and dignified send off with the two people and cat who loved him most around him.
We lit a candle for him and tried to spend as much time as we could with our 12 year old cat, Hardy. He was always a more anxious cat compared to Aragorn who was always so chilled out and curious of visitors, so we were completely stunned when he walked right up to the vet and the representative from the pet crematorium and rolled onto his back for both of them to receive attention. That was lovely to see.
After the vet had gone and I had Aragorn in my lap, Hardy, who had been sat on the arm of the chair next to me the whole time, came over and stood over Aragorn for a few seconds. It was almost like he was standing guard.
We gave Hardy the run of the house last night. We didn't want him to spend his first night without Aragorn alone. Their beds have always been right next to each other, and during Aragorn's last week, we noticed that Hardy was spending more time in bed too. While we couldn't explain to him what was happening, he definitely picked up on something.
It's going to be really difficult while we try to navigate this new world without Aragorn. I wasn't braced for seeing the space where his bed used to be and it broke me.
In that last week, I didn't feel ready. Even when there is an inevitability about this process, I don't think you can ever be ready. Not really. It's unsurprising, yet shocking. Entirely natural, yet completely unfair.
I constantly pivoted between immense gratitude to have had him in my life for as long as I did, to railing that it still wasn't enough time.
It felt like such a shock to have him, there in front of my eyes, fading, but still present. Still bright eyed when he looked up at me. Still purring and happy for strokes. It is grotesque to me that he is suddenly not here. How can a process be so natural and yet feel so alien?
Aragorn has been with us through so many upheavals and milestones. I had him since he was 8 weeks old. Every day he has been there, ever present. Always wanting to be close to us. Always curious to meet new people and friends. He's been through so many painsomnia nights with me. Always happy to sleep in my lap for hours or snooze with me in my arms against my chest.
He would follow Adam around and meow for ever more attention. He would lie at his feet and brush his paw behind his ear to ask for loves and spanks. He would sit at the kitchen table when we were eating to see what was going on. At Hallowe'en parties he would hijack someone's costume wig to have a sleep on.
What makes a house? You fill it with furniture and decor and memorabilia to put your personality stamp on it, but the heart and soul are the people and animals. Aragorn was a large part of what made this house feel like home. He was home. You develop a kind of muscle memory. Little daily rituals. Your body expects to see him in your periphery. You had the habit of saying hello to him first thing in the morning and be greeted with a vaguely reproachful meow. You knew he was always close by.
That week of knowing we were marking time until losing him was just a relentless onslaught of BIG FEELINGS. Exhausting ourselves with crying in the other room, and then putting on a smile for him when we went to see him in his bed.
Death by appointment is a weird thing. It was jarring to arrange the logistics of euthanasia, crematorium, and talking about ashes, when he was right there, looking up at us and purring. He was right there. Alive and with us. Yet we knew the point when he wouldn't be.
His casket will be placed on the radiator cover in the kitchen. That's where his bed was. Now that the garden is looking nice, we did very briefly consider an outdoor memorial, but he was an indoor cat so we want him near to where he used to sleep, so cosy and tightly curled up. He used to make the act of sleeping look so awesome.
There were some strange coincidences or quirks of timing as well. The fact that he walked in after both phone calls. Our box set of Pet Sematary arrived the Friday the euthanasia vet and crematorium were booked. He had a brief moment of collapse that Friday evening at 7:30, the time that was first considered. Shortly before the vet arrived yesterday, we turned the channel on the TV and The Return of the King was on and it was right at the moment that Aragorn said, "I do not fear death".
I feel quite lost. I will be feeling okay, and then suddenly, I will very much not be okay.
All I know is that we loved our boy and we miss him terribly, for always. Wherever he is, I hope he is with Arwen.
Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it...
White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
He will be greatly missed by us all. It was always a big part of the visit to yours to see Aragorn and Hardy and receive some fuss and cuddles from them. You were lucky to have him and he was lucky to have you.
He was the best old man and I miss him immeasurably.