Goodbye, Sötis

Life can be long. Life can be short. Sötis got two months. Two months of play, fun and explorations of a world that was so new and so big to him. Is that not so painfully unfairly short?

Today we went with him to the vet. The verdict was a broken leg and spinal injury (possibly broken). Nothing to do but put him to sleep. Our sweet, sweet Sötis didn't even survive the summer.

We have no idea what happened. When my sis saw him he was fine, sleeping on her bed. Perhpas no more than an hour later I saw him and noticed a limp. It looked like a harmless limp at first, but the leg started to swell and suddenly he collapsed. He could no longer walk, but tried his best to move around using his front paws. My heart sank. At that moment I knew he was dying. Whenever a cat or dog lose the ability to use the hind legs for one reason or another it has always meant that. The last hours. Sometimes because they die themselves or because the only mercyful thing to do is to take that horrible decision. This happened late at night and it felt like nothing could be done until the morning. So we gave him a last night in bed. I fell as sleep asking every power in the universe for "miracle or mercy" -- a miracle recovery or at the very least a painless merciful death.

Woke up early, worried about what Sötis would be like. Very ill? Dead? He was stable. Not happy, but not lethargic or depressed or even in real pain. I gave him water and food and he was sweet as usual. Had an apetite, but he was also suffering from the injury. But seeing how his state hadn't turned to the worse, my hope lit up again. Maybe it was just fatigue that kept his hind legs from working, the swelling pressing on a nerve or something. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was just a broken bone that, though painful, is easy to fix. It's 2012. Surely medicine, even vet medicine, can do everything. He had apetite. That's good. The worst sign is a cat without apetite. A cat can starve itself to death if feeling ill or in severe pain. He ate, that's good. Isn't it? Right? Hope gone to hope lit -- to hope so utterly gone again when the vet said those words, gave a verdict that showed no other option but the one every pet owner dread to hear.

He didn't like the car ride -- I hate that part, torturing on the way to the vet. In this can torturing a cat at the very end of his life.

I held his paw while he died. He fell asleep forever and now there will be an eternity without him. Two months he lived. He will be did forever. He will never play with his brother. He will never sleep on my lap. He will never grow up to be a beautiful big cat. He will never chase a butterfly or stalk a bird. Death ends it all so abruptly. A short, short time of life. An eternity of death, of non-existense.

Last photos of Sötis.

Two things makes me feel sorry for myself and find his death especially cruel:

-- To be honest I wasn't happy when the kittens were born. We have so many already and it was an accident that there came more this year. We weren't going to keep them and in order to not get attached we didn't give them names. Sötis died without even a real name. Sötis just means Sweety, a term of endearment. But for different reasons we did keep them. And we did get attached to them. But the fact remains: during his first weeks I looked at him and wondered why he had to be born because he wasn't wanted. Cute, but not wanted in this home. Cute, but not looking very special like his long-haired brother or white-and-black cousin that were part of the 2012 litter. Nothing that would make me fight the rest of the family to keep him. Cruel fate has now taken him from me. I miss him so much.

-- We don't know if both injuries came at once or if his attempt to hop on three legs aggrevated the spinal injury. Perhaps if we could've rushed him to the vet at once when it happened (whenever it happened) he wouldn't have been paralysed and the injury treatable. What if we had rushed him in, ignoring the fact it was already night, pounded on the vet's door demanding she's see us right away, instead of losing hope. What if we would've seen the accident  and been able to fixate the spine to avoid further damage toit at the earliest possible stage. What if we could've prevented the accident. What if...

On the right, Snuttis with mommy Mimi. On the right Ullegull behind Sötis.

Two months also mean not an awful lot of photos. Two months mean he will be remembered as a sweet kitten, but without even knowing his full potential. Two months mean he died defenseless, with no one of the cats or humans he leaned against for help being able to safely carry him back to life. Two months are just too short. Life was just about to begin, he was just about to really discover the world he was born into. He was so innocent.

I've agreed to this sentiment before: "I don't know if heaven exists, but kitty heaven does. It must exist." Sötis deserves a kitty heaven. A paradise full of mice and milk and butterflies -- and lots of other kittens to play with.

The last sunset