We lost a member of our little family last week. Pretzel. Her health has been slowly declining for several months now, but things took a turn for the worse when she stopped eating. The vet found tumors on her bladder, but some lab work showed no cancerous cells, only signs of infection. Antibiotics did nothing to help her appetite and had no effect on the tumors. The vet and I talked about our options: more lab work, x-rays, appetite stimulants and possibly chemo, but it felt cruel of me to lay out a plan for more meds and vet visits. Pretzel HATED going to the vet; while there, she would tremble and yowl and pee on the exam table. And after a vet visit, she would be terrified of me for the next two days — fearful that I was going to put her in her carrier and take her back there.
Since I couldn't ask Pretzel about how she felt about the situation, I had to make the call on my own. I wanted to take her home with me, but for what? So she could starve for a few more days?
Oo was at school, but I had T with me at the vet's. I told him to give her a little pat on the head and tell her that we love her. We left the room while the vet put her to sleep, but I went back in alone afterwards to say goodbye. In hind sight, I should've taken T in with me because not seeing her afterwards left him full of the questions and confusion I was trying to spare him.
When we picked Oo up from the car line at school, T blurted out that Pretzel was dead before Oo was fully in the car. I had been preparing Oo by telling her that we didn't have much more time to be with Pretzel and she seemed fine and understanding. But the finality of the situation sent her into sobs, and the three of us spent the following half hour piled up in a mopey heap together on the couch.
After our snuggle time, Oo set to work, cleaning the family room. She picked up the toys and books and even straightened out all the couch pillows and TV remotes. As she proudly displayed her work to me, I couldn't believe all the effort she had gone through to cheer me up. But then she said, "See? Aren't I responsible?" (She knows that we're waiting for her and T to grow up a little more and become "responsible" before we're get a new pet... That girl doesn't waste any time.)
Even though she seemed to have pulled herself together quickly and put her eye on the prize, Oo got weepy a few times over the next couple days. She's feeling better now though, and she's proud that she and Pretzel became friends before the end.
So back to T, and his confusion... During dinner, on the day that Pretzel passed away, T told me:
Mom, I don't want to be dead. Because if I be dead then I wouldn't be able to do all the important stuff... like... watch videos or ride Oo's bike or bounce on Hannah's trampoline. If I be dead, then all I could do is ride in the wagon like...And then he made a contorted pose and held it as if rigor mortis had set in. Where does he get these ideas?? I should've let him see the cat.
