Gracie was at the veterinarian for her annual shots this week. My vet has a system. When the candle on the counter is burning, someone is saying goodbye to their beloved pet. This was the first time I encountered a burning candle.
I got a big lump in the throat. I checked Gracie in and sat down in the waiting room. The lump wasn’t going anywhere. I was fighting it because…well, just because.
We were placed in the examining room next to the room where goodbyes were happening. There was uncontrollable weeping. It was heard throughout the building. The sobs were deep and long and loud. The kind where you can’t catch your breath. I started crying too.
I cried for Jake and Lacy and Magic and every beloved pet I had to take on that last trip. We had our exam and the weeping in the next room continued. I left and there was still weeping. My heart hurt. I felt compelled to barge in the room and console the inconsolable. No owner should make that last trip alone. But I didn’t. Grieving needs privacy.
While that cat was beloved and cherished, other people dump their old cats out. The cat they adopted as a kitten. The one that slept with them. They desert them. Dump them on the streets. An old indoor cat who has never hunted for survival doesn’t live long. Kibble doesn’t grow on trees. Starving and scared is a bad way to go.
Excuses…soiled carpets, no interest in finding solutions (there are solutions), no time, better to get new pet, young one. A cute one. Friendly. These same folks think they are pet people.
When an animal gets adopted, it’s a crap shoot. Will they be loved until the end or just as long as it’s convenient? My heart hurt for those pets too.