It's been over two months since Oliver died. How does that both seem like forever ago and yet just like yesterday? As I tossed and turned in bed a few nights ago, somehow totally awake after being exhausted all day, my thoughts turned to him. It's rare that a day that goes by that I don't touch the little wooden box on my bedside table and think of him. I also realized that I never talked about that thing I mentioned I would talk about later which mainly was about how we found someone who would come out to the house and help us say goodbye to him. 

Initially I had wanted the vet who treated Oliver to do the deed but he wouldn't come to our house citing staffing reasons. The thought of bringing him back to the vets office for his final moments just did not sit well with me. I could feel in my soul that it just wasn't the right choice. I called two mobile vet clinics in town who, according to the websites, did perform in-home euthanasia. The problem? The first seemed like he could care less that I was calling to put my cat to sleep. He referred to Oliver as "the animal". Maybe this is par for the course but it just didn't sit well with me. He wasn't just an animal. The second seemed a little too enthusiastic for me. No, "I'm sorry" or anything just a cheerful, "Okay, so when are we looking to do this?" No thanks. I called several other vets in town but they would not come out to the house without a prior examination.

I didn't think it would be so difficult! The last thing I wanted to be doing in my super-sensitive, emotional state was to be repeating the details of the situation over and over again. (did I mention that all this was going down while I was on break at work?) Finally, I Googled "in home euthanasia Lexington" and eventually found a couple pet hospice places located in Louisville. The first I called was A Friend's Farewell. I talked with Dr. LeMay and asked if she knew anyone in Lexington who would be willing to come to the house. After expressing her sympathies she asked me what my kitties name was and then said, "Tell me about Oliver." Of course I started to cry. Long story short, she gave me a few names to try and said that if I couldn't find anyone to call her back, that she would probably have time to come down. Needless to say I ended up calling her back and she drove all the way from north of L-ville to help us say goodbye.

As I wrote in the post that day-and I still can't really find the right way to say this-everything went well? It was  good? That just doesn't seem to right in this sort of situation. I guess I'll say that it went as well as I could have hoped for being the situation that it was. We were home, he was comfortable, and we were able to go at our own pace and say goodbye to him in our own way. I will always be so grateful that we found someone passionate enough to do what she does and compassionate enough to drive over an hour each way to help us. It made a difficult situation a little bit easier to bear. 

It's been a week since we said goodbye to Oliver. Already. Gees, time goes by too quickly these days. 

Instead of burying him we had him privately cremated and I picked him up last Friday. Having him home again gave me some comfort, even if it was in a box. Sad face. I kept the box close to me while I worked and I'll admit that I even slept with it that night I brought him home. It's strange maybe, and I can't explain the reasoning behind it other than I really miss him and needed some kind of physical connection to him. Right now he's still on the table by my bed where no doubt he'll remain for quite some time. 

I've been comforted by watching videos and looking though some of the many photos of Oliver, feeling so thankful that I took the time to take them in the first place: 

The doctor left one of those "So Your Pet Died" books and although I originally kind of poo-poo'd it I read it the day after Oliver's death. It made me cry (because pretty much anything did that day) but it had some good tips about remembering your pet. One section asked questions that you could answer that would help you remember your pet like, "How and why did you become your pets owner and companion?" While searching through a hard drive for photos I came across a Word doc in which I had written memories of our other awesome cat, Charlie. Reading through them made me laugh (and cry) but I was so happy that I had it to come across. I haven't written anything about Ollie yet but I will. 

I lucky to be surrounded by so many people (in real life and online) that care about me and have expressed their condolences. People that I don't have to pretend not to be sad around, that I can talk with openly, and who'll just let me do my thing, even if it's just sobbing into the phone unintelligibly (Thanks, Kelly).  My thanks to all of you, you've made a difficult situation a little bit easier.

Yesterday we said goodbye to our baby boy, Oliver. He was 5.

On Monday an ultrasound revealed that the evil sonofabitch cancer had spread to his liver and bladder so Heath and I made the hard decision that it was time to let him go. He was a strong kitty and had fought hard, but we needed to give him relief. I made arrangement on Tuesday (more on this later) and spent as much time with him as I could. I probably told him "I love you" about 1.2 million times. 

Yesterday, while I waited for the doctor to arrive at the house I hung out on the bed with Oliver, read my book, let him play with and eat on a balloon string, and gave him love. The doctor arrived, we took care of some paperwork and then it was time. 

Heath and I loved on him and then took him outside. He had always been fascinated with 'outside' but never actually wanted to go unless one of us was holding him. He perked up noticeably as he took in all the sounds and felt the sun and wind. Heath picked up leaves and sprinkled them over his head (he always liked to watch leaves fly around the yard), his claws digging into my shoulder (another favorite activity) as his eyes darted around following the leaves to the ground. Inside we fed him catnip and shared stories of his shenanigans with doctor. 

When it all went down it was peaceful. Both Heath and I were there by his side telling him over and over again how much we loved him and how thankful we were that he was our kitty.  I felt the soft spots behind his ears, kissed his paws, and ran my fingers through his thick fur. I  held him one last time before placing him in a basket and saying goodbye one last time. 

Even though I knew this was the inevitable outcome of this situation it is still hard to believe that he's gone. Somehow, even in a house with three other cats and a toddler, it feels empty and like something is missing. I walked into the bedroom last night and looked for Oliver in his usual place, only he wasn't there. I accidentally called Ivan, Oliver and I swear that I heard Oliver meowing last night and it caused me to wake up. I'm thankful that I fell back asleep before grief took a hold of me again. 

Oliver was an amazing cat and he will always hold a special place in my heart. I'll miss you forever buddy. 

So here's what's up with Oliver. The tumor they removed from his intestines (a big nasty thing-I saw the pictures) was something the pathologist called a 'poorly differentiated tumor'. Basically (as far as I understand) it was so jacked up with evil cells that they couldn't pinpoint where the cancer actually originated. This makes diagnosing the type of cancer that he has pretty much impossible. Yes, they removed the mass but they are pretty sure that there is still some cancer in there just waiting to wreak havoc on the inside of my awesome orange kitty. The bastards. 

Today is Ruby's second birthday! We had a little party last Friday, nothing too involved just Heath and I, his parents, and his grandma. I did a little decorating while Ruby was in daycare. I am totally in love with our fireplace mantle...maybe not so much how I decorated it (I swear I am missing the decorating gene) but I love the character it adds to our home. 

Heath and his dad spent about 2 hours to put together the cool retro kitchen we all got her. Sure, I could have gotten a plastic one that would have been cheaper and easier to put together but, well, I'm picky and I really wanted something cute if I was going to have to look at it every day. 

Two hours to put together but only about two seconds for her to notice it after she got home from daycare. One of the first things she did is go up to the microwave and start hitting the buttons and saying, "beep beep beep!" Another one of those where-did-she-learn-that moments that have been happening so often lately. 

There were of course other gifts to open, mostly accessories for the kitchen including fake fruits and veggies, pots and pans, and a vintage toaster and metal plates. When I asked Heath's parents if they would split the cost of the kitchen and accessories with us I really meant that as Hey, you don't need to get her anything else, this is more than enough but I guess when you have the only grandchild all that goes out the window. 

After dinner we had cake. The plans for the cake were as follows: 
Plan A: Make a cake from scratch (yeah. right.)
Plan B: Buy that Caramanda's cupcake Groupon (only I forgot to buy it. Crap.)
Plan C: Find a suitable cake from Kroger for Ruby and cupcakes from Gigi's for the rest of us.