New Normal

  
Today I had to make the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I euthanized Pablo. Over the last two weeks, his systems started failing. I spent the weekend sitting with him, petting him, carrying him to the bathroom and holding him up while he drank. I slept on the floor with him so I could wake when he did and help him because he could barely lift his head by this morning. So really I felt that it wasn’t much of a choice. I couldn’t watch him drag his limp body after me when I walked out of the room. I couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain.

Pablo has been an integral part of my life for more than 17 years. I said my last goodbye to Pablo this morning. It felt like I was ripping my heart out.  

Today is the beginning of my new normal. 
There is no more screaming in the morning trying to wake the deaf dog and deaf human.

There is no more announcing a poo, walking out of the bathroom indignant that I’m not already there covering it for him.

There are no litter boxes and pee pads littering the bathroom floor.

I don’t have to pick up the bathroom rug after my shower.

There is no cat hiding next to the toilet.

I can close the bathroom door without retribution.

I can leave the nightlight off in the bathroom.

There are no cat dishes on my kitchen floor.

There is no chatter as I get breakfast and dinner for my small overlord.

There is no gate keeping the dog out of the kitchen.

There is nothing constantly trying to trip me while making dinner.

There will be fewer and fewer white cat hairs on my black clothes, and couch, and bed. 

I could sleep on the other side of the bed, sit on the other side of the chair if I want.

I can keep both my arms under the covers while I sleep instead of cradling the monsters in the dark.

There is no guard cat greeting me at the front door while the deaf dog sleeps, or there to block Perl from entering the condo.

There is no warm bundle of joy lying next to me in the chair as I watch tv or stretched out on the couches on the back deck.

There is no white ball of fluff blending into my bed linens waiting for me and purring next to my head as I go to sleep.

It is too quiet. It is too clean. It is too lonely. I don’t like the new normal.

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Joel Norvell on December 2, 2015 at 12:59 pm

    My belated but deep condolences to you on your loss of your beloved, Pablo. He was lucky to have you in his life & you, him.

    Reply

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