Three Days Left

Friday is going to be a difficult day for me. We've known for awhile that we have too many animals in this household (three cats and Shandi). We've also known that two of the cats would be put down before Baby arrived. I figured we had a few months left with Ping and Sophie. That was until they started using the entire basement as their personal litterbox.

The basement renos have been clicking along at a smooth pace. The painting will be finished tomorrow which means flooring will be ready to be installed next week. Since the cats have been peeing and pooping anywhere they please, we had decided a few weeks ago that before the new flooring was installed, two of the cats would be gone. We didn't want them doing their business on the brand new flooring. So Friday will be their last day with us.

For those of you that don't have pets, this wouldn't seem like a tough decision. But me? My cats have been my surrogate babies and this decision has broken my heart. Others may be questioning why we don't just find them a new home. And the answer to that is because I couldn't handle not knowing if they are okay. My brother has an acreage and he offered to take them, but they are not outside cats. Their exposure to the outside consists of nothing more than a few rolls in the grass and chasing butterflies for the ten minutes they are outside (supervised, of course).

So, in my irrational world, I would much rather put them to sleep, where they can die in my arms and I know where the are. They will be cremated and, in two weeks, they'll come back to me in a blue satin pouch that I will place in the trunk in my living room. I would rather do this than give them away, have them disappear and me never know their fate...were they eaten by coyotes or hit by a car? I just don't want their death to be a scary, lonely, painful event.

Why only two of the cats? Why Ping and Sophie and not Baby Kitty? Ping has lived a good life...nine long years. Her time would likely come in the following year since she is so overweight, so I would rather she die in my arms than suffer a heart attack in the corner of the basement. And Sophie? My sweet, ever-watching Sophie...she's a puker, she sheds the most and I just wouldn't trust her for a second around Baby (she sleeps on my chest, for pete's sake...of course she'd want to sleep on Baby's too!). Baby Kitty is only two years old. She doesn't shed much, she doesn't puke and I have a feeling we won't see her for the first year of Baby's life (she spooks very easily). But if messes start appearing in the basement after the other two are gone, Baby Kitty's number will likely be up.

So, my Friday will be spent spoiling the shit of the cats. They can eat as much cat food, tuna and chicken until they puke. We will play with the laser light, with wads of tin foil and fake mice stuffed with cat nip. I don't want to let them sleep for a minute. There will be plenty of time for that after 4:00pm.

And I just know the next three days will consist of me sporadically bursting into tears when I look at the cats...knowing that they don't know they only have a such limited time left. It's going to be a long three days, but I really wish they would never end.