We knew Patches’ time was running short. When he was diagnosed with a heart murmur in March 2016, we were told the mean life expectancy was between 2-5 years. His heart failure crisis in March of 2018 had shown us how quickly things could deteriorate. He managed to recover, and his quality of life was back to normal. We enjoyed a great year, but on March 22, 2019 he suddenly lost movement of his right hind leg. We rushed him to our vet, and we were told blood clots had developed, and that his condition would not improve. Letting him go peacefully was the hardest things we’ve done in a long time. Learning to move on was the next one.
We wondered how Socks would react to being a single cat. He had always been the independent one, but wondered if he would like being alone. Not only did he adapt, he never gave any signs of missing his brother. That angered me at times, because they had been together all of their lives. But he was happy, enjoying having a choice of laps at the end of the day, and we moved on… until a week ago. On December 22, nine months after losing Patches, Socks crossed the rainbow bridge. He had a good morning: breakfast was served on time, and he enjoyed a long brushing. Then, as we were getting ready for our breakfast, we hear a loud thump in the bathroom. Socks had collapsed, and did not respond to his name. We drove him to the emergency vet, and we were told that he was gone. He probably had a heart attack, or a blood clot, but we’ll never know.
We never have enough time with our loved ones, humans or otherwise. But while we always want “more time”, that is not up to us. The best we can do is not take our family for granted, pay attention to the moments we have together, and build memories for the time when we will not be together. I’ve been a pet photographer for years, and always advocate to take portraits on a regular basis. I am glad that I took candids of our everyday life, especially now when our routines are gone. But I still wish I had captured some of their quirks better. Patches was always ready for the camera, and I have more images of him than of his brother. Socks barely tolerated my attempts, so I tried to let him be, and did not “pester” him with the lens. I’m glad I did continue to photograph him despite his preferences, but I wish I had photographed him more.
Our condo is too quiet these days. The familiar meows or pounding runs upstairs are missed. Friends have asked us if we’ll get more cats soon. But while there are thousands of felines in need of good homes, we need time to grieve, and let our hearts heal. We miss our boys, and they cant’ be replaced. In time, I hope we’ll be ready to love again. We made a donation after Patches’ death to Friends of Rescue, so that a feline could be sponsored into their program. We intend to make a similar donation in Socks’ name after the holidays to a second homeless pet group.
This last image was taken on December 2017. I walked in the bedroom, and found them on J’s lap. Surprised not to have them rush out of bed for their evening treat, I took several candids with my iPhone. This was the best of the series. We’ll miss them forever, but are glad that they were a part of our lives.
Give your pets a hug while you can. I wish I could.