I was going to float the title topic a little more softly than that, but let’s face it – some times, the kitty needs to go.\u00a0 As an old and dear friend reminded me today, sometimes waiting, no matter how much we’d like to, can be an act of selfishness at a time when selflessness is most called for.<\/p>\n
I am famous, or perhaps infamous, in some circles for driving a car with a license plate that reads HORCRUX.\u00a0 In the unlikely event that you’re a complete muggle or have simply been under a rock for several years, a horcrux (from Harry Potter) is an object, living or inert, into which you hide a part of your own soul, thus making you harder to kill – like Westley\u00a0in the Princess Bride, you wouldn’t be all the way dead, you’d only be *mostly* dead.<\/p>\n
I’ve come to the conclusion that horcruxes are real.\u00a0 Unlike the world of Harry Potter, though, you don’t have to commit murder to create one.\u00a0 You just need a pet.<\/p>\n
Our pets gradually siphon off pieces of our souls; this is why we bond with them as we do, and this is why it hurts so much to let them go – we’re killing a part of ourselves with them, even as we do them the last piece of kindness that we can.<\/p>\n
So, that’s the bad news.\u00a0 The good news, though, is that it turns out that our souls are modeled after our livers.\u00a0 They regenerate on their own, with just a bit of time and care.\u00a0 It’s like a liver for your spirit.\u00a0 They grow back, in time.\u00a0 Imagine if geese had souls – we could have spiritual foie gras!<\/p>\n
But enough about all that.\u00a0 I want to talk about logistics.\u00a0 Here’s what happened:<\/p>\n
Professor Flitwick (hey, there’s a reason my analogies are mostly Harry Potter references) came to us at 7 years old, quick on his feet and with a firm understanding that the top of the refrigerator was a good place to hang out – he could reach it in one jump, without effort.\u00a0 At 17 years old, he started considering the litter box “optional” – but never did his business outside line of sight of the box.\u00a0 The basement being a semi-functional free-fire zone anyway, we got by.\u00a0 For 2 more years.<\/p>\n
This past November, the business moved upstairs.\u00a0 By Christmas, the business had reached every room in the house, and the Christmas tree.\u00a0 He was starting to have trouble with the stairs, and he couldn’t jump on things.\u00a0 He didn’t seem to be in pain, but quality of life – his and ours – was degrading quickly.\u00a0 Last week, we knew it was time.<\/p>\n
Pro Tip:\u00a0<\/strong> Do Not\u00a0Google “How to kill your cat at home.”<\/em><\/p>\n Since the last time we had to make this call was more than 19 years ago, I was a little out of practice, so I did what everyone does:\u00a0 I Googled “how to kill your cat at home.”\u00a0 The Internet is really, really great.\u00a0 It is a wealth of knowledge, the collective hive mind of some of the greatest and some of the most deranged humans on the planet.\u00a0 I found hundreds of ways to ensure exsanguination, and dozens of ways to ensure your beloved Mitzie stayed dead once she took the big dirt nap.\u00a0 (I confess I was surprised how many people read Pet Sematary<\/em> as an instruction manual.)\u00a0 Regardless, the real question was quickly noted to be “how do you prevent suffering,” and there were two answers.\u00a0 One involved firearms and a locale conducive to their discharge, and the other was “get a professional.”<\/p>\n Since we have no firearms at the moment, nor do we live near a\u00a0locale conducive to their discharge, I started researching professionals.\u00a0 Since Prof. Flitwick had hated going to the vet for his entire life, finding someone who could come to the house was paramount.\u00a0 It was also really damn expensive.<\/p>\n