Getting Ready to Say Goodbye

I’ve known for almost a whole year (just shy four months) that there will come a day when I have to say goodbye to my beloved Binx.

I just didn’t expect that day to come so quickly.

On our latest escapade to the vet’s office, I waited like I always did in one of the private rooms, casually flipping through my Instagram while Binx had his tummy drained of icky fluids. This gross milk-white substance is the by-product of Lymphoma, or cancer of the lymph nodes. And with nowhere to go, this stuff stretches out his stomach, and will suffocate his organs, sending him into spiraling pain.

When the vet tech came back with him, the grim look on her face said it all. She began to explain that not only did he lose roughly around 8 ounces, there was also a noticeable tint of red.

In other words, blood.

That’s when the vet (wonderful woman by the way; I would recommend her to everyone who has a pet!) came in and told me that, because of the noticeable blood, the cancer was progressing.

His time on this earth has been shortened.

I once thought I would have until spring to spend time with him. Now, I’m not even sure if he’ll make it past Christmas.

The doctor told me to keep a closer eye on him and be on the lookout for signs he’s ready to go: refusal to eat, refusal to use the litter box, and no longer wanting to move around the house. But because he’s still alert and willing to eat, she wasn’t willing just yet to send him to Kitty Heaven.

We had one small scare before we left.

Just as I was going to pick Binx up and shimmy him into his carrier, we found a small puddle of pink liquid on the table. The vet and vet-tech immediately swooped in, dabbing the wet fur on his belly and waiting to see if his disposition changed. We all stood rigid, watching as his belly continue to dribble on the table. This was the first leak that didn’t immediately plug itself up after a draining. Even more proof his cancer was moving along.

Somehow, I managed to pack him up, pay for his visit, and drove him home before I broke down. Off and on for the rest of the afternoon, I sobbed my heart out. This cat may have only been in my life for little more than two years, yet he has somehow wormed his way into my heart and has me wrapped around his pretty black paw.

Adopting him from the Humane Society was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life. When we first met, he was grumpy, hated humans, and was convinced he didn’t need anyone to help him with anything. For two entire weeks, he hissed at me whenever I moved, swiped at my ankles when I walked past, and threatened to bite Pepper if she got too close.

So how did he suddenly become one of the sweetest little boys to ever walk this earth?

Simple, I stood my ground, pointed my finger at him, and told him I was gonna be his mom for the rest of his life, whether he liked it or not, so he had better get used to it. His face went from mid snarl, to one of confusion and utter bewilderment. For the rest of the day he stared at me, as if he were waiting for me to exclaim “just kidding!” and drive him back to the Humane Society. The very next day, he jumped on the couch during a movie and plopped himself right next to my leg.

From then on, the only time he ever growled or tried to bite me was when I tried to put him in the carrier.

I’m not sure when it’ll be his time. I don’t want to think about it, to be quite honest. If I do, I’ll surely start sobbing again.

What I do know is, until that time comes, I’ll be by his side and giving him all the love and treats his little heart can take. There will never be a time where he does not know warmth and soft fleece blankets.