Chestnut on the day she was adopted in January 2006Yesterday morning at 8:00am, our five year old tortoiseshell cat Chestnut died. Craig was gone for the weekend at a winter retreat with his youth group and I was still in bed at the time. The cats had been sleeping in the baby crib and I heard them start to fight each other. Chestnut went to jump out of the crib and must have caught herself somehow; possibly on a bumper tie, a thread from the mobile, or simply her claw in the bumper side; and she fell into a large canvas bin that sits next to the crib. The bin has a couple blankets at the bottom of it.
I heard a bit of scrabbling and then one very off-sounding and plaintive cries. I knew something was off but thought maybe she just couldn't get out of the bin on her own. I got out of bed, looked over into the bin and realized she wasn't moving and was on her side with her face against the bin side and facing a bit down. I scrambled to find my glasses and the light and came back to look, all the while calling her name. She hadn't moved at all and wasn't making any more sounds. Thinking she might have hurt a leg or her neck, I gently scooped her up and moved her onto the bed. Her eyes and mouth were open. She coughed twice in what I can only guess was an attempt to breath, and then she was gone. Her pupils got very large and I could feel no heartbeat or breath.
Sobbing, I tried to call Craig but knew that there was no signal on the mountain where his group was camped. I called my dad immediately after and checked Chestnut several more times for signs of life while on the phone with him, knowing full well that she was gone. After calming down to some degree, I called a local emergency vet for a price so that I could have Chestnut cremated. Apartment living doesn't really lend itself to pet burials in the back yard and there was NO WAY I was throwing her in the dumpster.
I have never felt so alone at that moment. New enough to town to have few friends, husband gone, no real relationship with a vet, family far away. Bleh. I was able to reach my friend Deb who was just getting off her work shift. Serendipitously, she was heading to her vet with her puppy and son and she offered to call them for me and then come get me. I said I could actually come over myself and tag along - wreck that I was.
All the while, I'm trying to remain as calm as possible because extra stress isn't so great for preggos - especially preggos not so far out from their due date. I took deep breaths, drank water, and made myself pack some food in my purse to take to Deb's so I would at least eat something. I showered and cried, got the cat carrier down and cried, and went back into my bedroom to put Chestnut in the carrier for the final time and cried.
The door to my bedroom had been closed to keep Brigid and Pecan from bothering her body and/or wigging out. Going back in, the room smelled like cat urine and death. Her eyes were getting a touch cloudy and it was an awful feeling to lift that small, still-warm body and place her onto her blanket and then build the carrier around her. I took her down to my car and then came back to clean off the comforter of her urine smell and for the rest of my stuff.
Driving to Deb's bothered me more than I expected because normally with Chestnut and car rides she'd cry a lot and I'd have to put my fingers in the crate so she could rub on them to calm down. The new silence was disconcerting at best.
The rest of the day went as expected. Deb was awesome. The vet office was kind but heart-breaking. The apartment was emptier without her. Craig and I finally got a hold of each other after I left Deb's and I felt horrible sharing the bad news with him. Chestnut was, although adopted by me prior to meeting Craig, truly his cat. She loved his smell and would fuss over him if given the opportunity. He also felt really bad about not being there but who can predict a freak accident. It was good to talk to my best friend though, even when delivering bad news.
I worked that night and my manager was awesome and we shared kitty stories and laughed. I bought some Benadryl thinking it would help me sleep (as suggested by my OB) because all I could see in my mind's eye were images of her prone in the bin and then on the bed after she had passed. Awfulness. I even slept in the spare room that night. I didn't want to be in the bed alone where she passed. I never did use the medicine though as I started having a few contractions later that evening, nothing "actual" but more than normal and I didn't want to be drugged up if I had to drive myself to L&D if they got any worse. Thankfully they went away with some rest and water and I was so tired from the day that I slept fairly well. Pecan kept me up with an hour of purring and cuddling at 6am but I didn't mind. The company was nice.
Now, a day later, the apartment still feels empty and both Craig and I are a bit subdued. Chestnut was an awesome cat and will be truly missed. I'm thankful I was there for her accident instead of finding her in the bin hours later. I don't want my comforter and duvet cover any more. I can still see her on them. I know the awfulness of it all will fade and the good memories will remain. We're not jumping to replace her any time soon. We're just keeping a close eye on how Pecan is coping and waiting for the right time after the baby arrives. Until then, we'll look back on the four years we got to spend with our wonderful Chestnut. She was loved and is missed.
Chestnut looking a bit more world-weary in July of 2009
She was such a good cat. As you know, I am not a big cat person, but she was among the few cats that I have really liked. I remember the day we went and picked her up from Project Pet. She ran immediately for the fireplace! I know how hard it is to watch a pet pass, but you are right, the sight, sound, and feeling of it will fade with time. Just remember all the good times you had with her! Can't wait to talk to you this week!
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