Mr. Doos
March 11, 1991 – November 17, 2007
“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”
–Edna St. Vincent Millay
Today was the day I had been dreading ever since Mr. Doos was first diagnosed with diabetes.
We first found out that something wasn’t right back in late September. The blood tests showed he had hyperthyroid and early renal failure. As a preventative measure he started taking a heart pill daily. Then in October he had his yearly vaccination. It was after that his body started to do strange things. The first was his blood sugar. It was low and lowering the insulin dosage didn’t really change that. His last dose of insulin was the morning of November 6. He seemed to become more chipper after that. Then about a week ago his behaviour changed again. He became more subdued. He never was an overactive cat, but he was even less so. He started eating less and that was the big worry for me. In a matter of days he practically stopped eating and became so bony thin, especially along his spine. It was heartbreaking to watch this physical decline and sad to pat. Then a couple of days ago he would only move 4-5 times a day. He would either be on Miranda’s bed or on the love seat. At night he always came and slept between us or on my feet. There was less of his “I’ve lost you” yowling than usual. His eyes weren’t as bright as usual. He barely breeped at us and slept most of the time. He didn’t appear to be in pain and that’s what fed the denial. I’ve spent most of this week crying. I called the vet and talked to him about the low blood sugar, the vomiting, lack of eating, etc. He prescribed some thyroid pills.
Last night we had sort of a hunch that it would be his last night with us. It was a sad and sleepless night. I stayed up patting, hugging, and brushing him. I felt so bad for not having given him many brushings lately. He loved that so much. I tried to make up for them last night and today. I also felt so bad that during our final evening I had crammed 2 pills down him. That’s not how I wanted spend our last hours together. I just hope I didn’t cause him undue suffering with my denial. I’ve always tried to do everything to help him. I saved him twice from being given up: once when I first got him, and then before we moved to Prince George.
This morning Simon called the vet to have Dr. Schaeffer have a look at him. While I got Miranda changed from her swimming lesson he went back home to get Doos. We took him into the vet in his Doo basket. The vet knew just by looking at him something wasn’t right. He did a blood test and found out the renal failure was nearly complete. In just 20 days he went from early failure to almost total. The decision was made.
We called Simon’s folks and asked them to come over and take care of Ian and Miranda. The appointment was for 2. We took him back in the Doo basket, but we had to wait. I gave him more combings and Simon chuckled his chin. They wrapped him in a towel, since he wasn’t the most cooperative patient, and let us be near when it was done. Dr. Schaeffer slowly injected the sedative as I hugged and kissed and scratched his neck and head and in a matter of minutes it was over. There was no pain or suffering. Just peaceful slumber. I continued to comb him and pat him. I couldn’t say good-bye. The hardest thing I ever had to do was walk away from him and leave him behind on the table. I will never forget that image.
We’re having him cremated and we can pick up the ashes next week. I have so few tangible mementoes. He didn’t have a favourite toy or blankie. All I have is his comb, a tuft of fur, some photos and movies, and a lot memories. In the coming weeks we’ll be posting stories of our memories of Doos. Please feel free to add your own. Here’s a collection of Doo pictures through the years. Remember him well when you look through them.
I love(d) him so much. I miss him so much. When will the hurt stop?
You’re at peace now Mr. Doos. No more needles or pills. No more sickness. It’s hard for Mummy to accept you’re not going to jump up at night and snuggle. I’m going to miss you. One day we’ll be together again. We’ll be young and healthy again and will be together for all eternity. Please wait for me. I love you. ❤️
:'(
9:00 am and 9:00 pm will always be Doo medicine time. I’ve got lots of things I’d like to post, but for the moment, I’ll say I dreaded this day as well. Mr. Doos was a part of our relationship from day one: he predated me and was there the very first time I met your family, but at the time he was the energetic little runt who terrorized his older "brother".
All I could think at the vet when it was done was "He’s gone. He’s gone." I miss him like hell, too. (L)
I am so sorry guys. Words cannot describe the pain of losing one you love. He was a loving old man. Miss him already!
I think I’m feeling okay enough to post a Mr. Doos story.
Transporting Mr. Doos was always a challenge. That could be said for most animals, but of our three cats, Mr. Doos seems to have the most memorable car trips. There are three that I’d like to mention here, although there are many others.
The first one was taking Mr. Doos with us when Tammy and I moved to Prince George. We had a convoy of me driving the moving truck, Chris and Chantel riding in Chris’ Mercury and Tammy driving the Justy. Mr. Doos was in the cat carrier with Tammy (of course). The trip took around 13 hours in total, and Tammy assured me that Mr. Doos didn’t stop meowing at the top of his voice for the entire time. On every breath, another meow. Eventually, she got Chantel to spell her off (I think it was from Willams Lake to Prince George).
Then there was the time Tammy and I went to Mt. Robson Park in the early summer of 1996. After a winter of being cooped up we were taking a road trip, and Tammy wanted to take Mr. Doos. We were treated to a generous helping of meowing all the way there and most of the way back, and a cat that didn’t want to come out of his carrier when we finally got there. Tammy was also worried that he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything on the trip, so we didn’t stay long, just turned around and headed back. After refuelling in McBride, Tammy drove the home leg. Mr. Doos was sitting in the little cat box Tammy had put in the carrier (not using it, just sitting in the litter). About five minutes from home, at the second to last traffic light, it turned yellow in front of us. Tammy, hypersensitive to traffic laws with her baby in the back seat ;-), slammed on the brakes. Mr. Doos hit the front of the cat carrier in a shower of upended cat litter. He was all right, but I was vaccuming cat litter out of the car forever.
And lastly, the ferry incident. When Tammy and I moved back to Victoria from Prince George, Tammy had preceded me to start work and find a place to live. So I was solo on the drive down. I’d given each of the cats an oral sedative before putting Nochie and Squeak in one box and Mr. Doos in the other. None of them really did anything for the whole trip. Doos’ meowing was much less than the previous long trip, and none of them really ate or drank. When I was waiting for the ferry, I opened their carriers, but only Mr. Doos came out. He sniffed around but didn’t do much. Since he was in the back seat, I just left him out when the call came to board the ferry. So there I am, just starting to move when he hear Doos climb into the cat box. He then proceeded to use the cat box in a noisy and smelly fashion. I rolled down the windows so that I could see to drive.
I remember sitting on the baggie of what Doos did in the box. We were dropping them off at the kennel while we got moved in. I was sitting in the back and felt that I was sitting on something. Once we stopped I found out it was a bag of Doo poo. Sealed thank goodness. 😀
Oh, Tammy and Simon. I’m so sorry. If you need me just call.
Love, Sharon
Thanks, Sharon. Tammy’s going to need a bit of time, but I’m sure she’ll love to talk just to have someone to talk to.
Here’s another Doos story.
When Tammy and I moved in together in our basement suite in Prince George, I was more than a little worried about Mr. Doos. Anecdotal evidence indicated that I might be allergic to cats. Tammy and I had argued about whether or not Mr. Doos should move with us, or stay with her Dad. In the end Tammy wouldn’t hear of leaving Mr. Doos and I agreed to just see what happened.
My one condition was that in order to try to reduce nighttime intake of cat hair and dander, at night we would close our bedroom door so that Mr. Doos wouldn’t sleep on the bed. Little did I know how persistent that cat was. As soon as we did so, that started hours-long sessions of Mr. Doos scratching at our door and howling outside it. He didn’t comprehend what we were doing: he just knew that he’d always slept on Tammy’s bed. It didn’t matter what we did, or if I got up and scolded him, he just kept at it.
Eventually, I conceded. I still remember getting out of bed, going to the door, and opening it. Mr. Doos was on our flowered chair and looked up with an almost hopeful expression. And breeped and jumped down and ran over immediately. I let him in and he jumped up on the bed to lots of hugs from Tammy.
And incidentally, in the end I was not allergic to cats. 🙂
Eleven months later, and I can’t read this post without tearing up.
It took a long time to get past anticipating 9 am and 9 pm as being "Doo medicine time". I still think about that the odd time. Miranda still remembers Mr. Doos well. She has the strangest mix of fondness and sadness when she sees pictures of him. After he was put down, it didn’t really phase her, but a few months later, she started to ask questions about where Mr. Doos was. I still don’t know that she really understands death yet (don’t we all), but she is accepting now.
Nochie still isn’t herself. She’s much more subdued than she was. It’s like she and Squeak got together and decided to split Mr. Doos’ traits: Nochie would be lazy, and Squeak would be talkative. 🙂
It ain’t easy, and I still miss him. Memories of that day are still hard to think about.
Four years later, and I can’t read this post without tearing up. :'(
Now we’re approaching the point where Nochie and Squeak are getting to that age where we will have to go through this again. This is the hard part of having pets.
Five and a half years later, and I can’t read this post without tearing up. :'(
Cats are doing well, but Nochie is having ear medicine for thyroid every other day, a heart pill and a solution of ground-up pill mixed with chicken bovril every other day.
Nope. Ten years on, and I still cry when I read this. Nochie has been gone most of a year now, too. 😢