Hello, I hope this is an okay place to share my grief.
A few days ago I lost my dear coal-kitty, my companion for over 15 years.
The first slide was her a few days before her final drive to the vet, the second slide the X-ray that would make the vet urge me to put her to sleep.
TW: The descriptions here are kind of graphic. Please only read it if you are absolutely able to.
She was a very timid cat, but a sweet one. Even as she was essentially suffocating with fluid across her entire body she'd still greet me with a small "brrt" and sought my attention, food, water, and exercise. She wanted to live and I took it away.
We used to not get along. When she was little she was understimulated and would often attack me. I was ill informed on why and resented her as a result, but I'd still take care of her, give her food, water, and change her litter. One wouldn't know when she would suddenly turn and absolutely maul my arm, though. My roommate at the time disliked her and another roommate would bully her with a flyswatter before he was hospitalised and passed away. She went from sleeping comfortably with me in my bed during her youth to barely wanting to be held by me at all in her aging years. Though we were finally truly getting along and she was playing, eating and she loved the garden chair in our backyard. She liked being pet and didn't mind being picked up.
I always wondered if she was content or not. Due to her athritis (I assume) she spent a lot of time sitting and purring (which she hardly ever did when she was little). She had interest in only a few toys, but due to her ailments she could only sort of wiggle her paws at them. I was scared that she was just in a neverending cycle of pain.
One day she was eating less and less, and that's when I took her to the vet, who'd take her to surgery to clean her teeth. It was clear though that she wouldn't be able to make it through another surgery. On more recent vet trips due to a UTI or signs of infection she began to throw up and pant in the car after less than half an hour of driving. It made me afraid to take her to the vet at all.
But she could finally eat and she loved dry treats and Churu. It was difficult though, because she'd still eat only a bit of every meal. I bought her some things to give her for Christmas, an advent calendar of cat-treats, and a wide variety of foods for her to try. She sadly never got to try them.
During the weekend I noticed that one of her front paws was swollen, and she'd occasionally sit down and breathe somewhat heavily, sometimes with her mouth open. I regret not taking her right away. I called the vet in tears on Monday, realising that her back paws were swollen as well and that she was panting with her mouth open sometimes. They still made me wait until the end of the day.
The swelling was painless and she was taken in for an X-ray, where I had to hear her yowl and hiss in distress, as she hated being handled by anyone but me. The vet pulled me aside to tell me that it wasn't looking good and that even an emergency clinic was risky, as she could suffocate at any minute. The X-ray shows her entire body being suffocated in liquid, which spilled out into her limbs. I couldn't afford an emergency clinic either.
My sweet girl had been so brave. I had to hold her with gloves as they injected a sedative that'd burn. The last meow I heard from her was a yowl of pain and a gentle warning bite. She'd stopped mauling me a long time ago. Even here she still would gently nip at me rather than bite me fully. She probably felt that I was the one hurting her and it tore me apart. She knew it was me. I brought her to my lap as she began to pass out quite quickly, trying to throw up but already being too weak. I pet her head and I was bawling at that point. I don't think I'll ever forget those wide, scared eyes as she was visibly struggling for every breath. She wanted to live. So badly. And I was ripping it away. It was already happening. I was so tempted to just beg the vets to save her instead, but I felt the sedative itself could kill her at this point, so I went through with having my cat put to sleep. We had to put her on the cold table where she got the final injection. Her body was so limp when I placed her back in the carrier. "She'd made it." the vet concluded after listening for her pulse/breathing.
She is now buried in a pretty, small grave in our back yard, where I light candles to remember her by. I let her return to the earth with her favourite toys and some treats and her favourite blanket.
I feel so immensely guilty. I'd always wished for her to have a wonderful evening to her life and a dignified end. Instead she died scared in a cold and sterile place, betrayed by the person she trusted the most, me. A part of me wonders if I dragged this poor, sweet and innocent animal with me rather than giving her up for adoption to a better owner because of my childhood trauma of losing my first cat, who was run over. She was taken to the vet by someone else, and I wasn't informed she had been put down until later. I swore to myself to keep this kitty and never leave her side until the end and I kept this promise, though I feel it has traumatised me. I feel like I neglected her, like I did everything wrong that could've been done wrong. I still replay the entire trip to the vet in my head over and over again. I wanted to make up for the time she spent suffering in our family, instead I feel like I'd neglected her and betrayed her when she so desperately wanted to live. I am falling back into a cycle of loathing myself, feeling empty, and crying at the loss of my only real companion, as I live alone.
I don't think I could bring myself to adopt another cat, or any animal for that matter. I am terrified to cause another innocent animal this same suffering. Yet, I have grown up and learned a lot about cats and how to respect their space and life over the years, so I really doubt that it would ever happen again. But the guilt is just too crushing.
What can I do? What should I do? I am at a complete loss.