We made the difficult decision for Clemmie to be put to sleep. Blood tests, xrays and physical examination under anaesthetic indicated a high to certain probability of lymphatic cancer and hyperthyroidism.
Today the vet and vet nurse called at our home so that Clementine aka Clemmie would not be distressed by another car journey in a cat box.
The mobile vet who saw to Clemmie twice before in as many weeks said that she could see straight away that Clemmie had much deteriorated since she had last seen her.
In a matter of days her behaviour changed and she stopped eating and drinking. What was most upsetting is that she just couldn’t be bothered claiming her patch from the other cats, no standoffs or hissing. Also, even though it is winter here, instead of curling up in a tight little ball on her pillow, she was lying stretched out on the cold wet paving in the back yard or the cold tiled floor in the laundry.
I stroked the fur on her back while the vet nurse held her for the vet to inject her with an overdose of anaesthetic. Clemmie relaxed and drifted off peacefully. I appreciate very much the dignity in which the vet and her assistant helped us at this very difficult time.
I was advised that Lawnswood will call to let me know what the options are for her private cremation. This is jargon for cremating her separate to other pets so that we can have the ashes. The plan is to sprinkle them around a rose plant.
We were going to drive up to Melville Nurseries on the weekend to get a rose to plant for in the memory of Clemmie. Instead, I rang to see that they had what I wanted (out of a list of four they had all four), and we drove up as soon as the vet had left with Clemmie.
I had not had anything to eat all day, so H suggested that we have afternoon tea at the rose garden. Instead, we drove into Kalamunda after visiting the nursery and had afternoon tea. Then it was a quick trip to the hardware shop next door to get some potting mix, and then back down the hill so that H still had some daylight to plant the rose.
Rose planted, and a box of tissues still at hand, I can reflect on a puss that was a little Miss at times with an independent streak so that she appeared to be dismissive of any attention by human beings except when she wanted it. And then she wanted it in piles, till she indicated by biting you that she had had enough.