Yesterday, I had to do something that was VERY uncomfortable for me …
I had to take our kitty “Oreo” to the vet … he was hurt (possibly hit by a vehicle?) on Saturday. He spent Sunday mostly laying around, but he was still eating and seemed to still be enjoying his brother and sister’s company.
He could walk, but very awkwardly, and not too far.
The journey to the clinic was smooth; he just laid in his little bucket … perhaps a little concerned about where he was headed but otherwise satisfied with me petting him along the way.
As the vet examined him and started talking to me about his treatment … four weeks in a 4 x 4 enclosed space … and possible complications once he gets out, I started to feel sick …
Like literally … the room was starting to spin …
“I just have to take a minute and sit down please.”
So I did.
And as I sat down, I started to cry …
“I can’t do this. There’s got to be a way to escape this. Can’t I just run away and leave this whole scene behind?”
“But, the kids … and what about his relationship with his brother and sister … what about Oreo … “
Yesterday, I wept (like a little baby) in the vet clinic over the loss of “Oreo Baby’s” quality of life …
How could he spend the next four weeks of his life in a cage? In a box? Alone? What about playing? What about chasing bugs? What about climbing up and down the swing set? What about playing in the bush? What about wrestling with Tiger and Rocky?
“I have to go phone my husband,” I told the veterinarian.
In the truck, I cried some more … I cried because of the loss of Oreo’s quality of life … but I also cried because of my weakness … my “dark” thoughts of just wanting to end this whole thing … maybe even putting him down instead …
But I can see his little face, and his pleading eyes (and I’m suddenly so sorry for even considering “ending it all”) … all the scenes of Oreo at home with us flash through my mind … and I weep some more … Cambri’s squeals of delight when Oreo lets her carry him … Mackenzie and Oreo’s cuddles … Oreo bouncing around the yard with his siblings …
He hasn’t been here long (just a few short months), but he’s already found a significant place in our hearts …
When I hang up the phone, I know what I have to do … I have to set up a confined space for our kitty … something he’ll be comfortable in for four weeks …
I have to hope and pray that the worst possible outcome that the vet described after all this was said and done won’t happen …
And I have to look at what “opportunities” have presented (and will continue to present) themselves with this whole ordeal.
I can see a few already …
recognizing my ability to do hard and uncomfortable things …
to rise to a challenge …
to think of (and serve) others (even though it’s just a five pound fur baby) …
to make the best of an unpleasant situation …
to ask for (and receive) help (my friend lent us her dog’s rarely used kennel) …
to stop and slow down to savour this recovery time (which will mean regular visits to his pen to chat with, pet, and cuddle our little friend) …
to “meet with” my daughters at the pen (maybe sit together and chat for awhile) …
to show my girls how to care for the sick or the wounded …
to cultivate compassion (and thinking of others) …
It’s early in this journey, but despite my initial resistance and feelings of utter discomfort, I can see opportunity … I trust there is something in this that I am supposed to learn … something that will help me and my family grow in some way …
Yesterday morning … prior to my visit to the vet clinic with our injured kitty … I came across this in the book I started …
“One of the best questions to ask when something negative happens is this: What does this experience make possible?”
I trust that nursing “Oreo Baby” back to health will be an incredible journey for us all … full of possibilities ❤️
Our Life Well Lived - Leanne Hintz 