It’s been just over a month since our cat, Sheldon, stopped eating. Since then, we’ve been savoring the time we have with him. We’ve been feeding him with syringes of fortified food from the vet. He’s gotten vitamin B shots, steroid shots, appetite enhancing tablets and many loving thoughts and prayers from family and friends. For a long time, he seemed very content sitting at the foot of our bed in his regular spot. He purred when we entered the room, and he eagerly accepted pets and nuzzles from us. Whenever possible, I’ve taken my laptop upstairs to be with him while I worked.
Sadly all that changed yesterday afternoon. Rather than sit contently on our bed he started crying non-stop. He was clearly trying to tell us something. After speaking to our veterinarian, we realized he was telling us he was ready to go.
So this morning we said goodbye to our sweet, lovable Sheldon Leonard Shackney. My husband, David, took him as I couldn’t get out of work. He held Sheldon’s paw as he passed away peacefully.
Then as David drove home, he called me and we cried together on the phone…this man who has cried so few times in our life together (when our son’s were born and when we first found out Sheldon was ill) cried with me over the loss of the best cat in the world.
When the tears were spent, David walked me through the whole process. He told me the vet asked if we wanted Sheldon’s ashes so we could sprinkle them over the place he liked best.
This standard question caused David to burst out laughing…startling the vet. When she asked him why he was laughing he said “I love Sheldon, but I don’t want his ashes sprinkled at the foot of my bed.”