Saying Good-Bye to Sheba

Sadly, I’m going to have my cat, Sheba, put to sleep later this morning. I am not sure how I will get up and walk out of that veterinarian office without her, but somehow I will find the grace to do it. 

Sheba was born on March 31, 1996 in Trade, Tn. I knew my neighbors cat was pregnant, and I had asked if I could have one of the kittens.  Sherry, the cats’ owner, told me she would let me know when they were born.

One morning, Sherry came knocking at my door. The kittens were ready to be looked at, but not yet ready to leave their mother. I excitedly followed her to her house and down the mountain.

She led me into her bedroom, opened the chifferobe door, and there was a mother cat with her three-week old kittens. I stood and looked at them for a while trying to figure which one I’d like to have. They were all gorgeous little balls of fur, but I finally decided on the grey and white one. There was something so endearing about her face.  When I looked into her beautiful greenish-gold eyes that were rimmed with what looked like white eyeliner, I knew I wanted her to be a part of my life.

Four weeks later, I picked up my little Sheba and brought her to my house. I introduced her to her new littler box, her bed, and her food and water dish. Like all kittens, she was a rabble rouser, but I quickly fell in love with her.

I moved six times after I got Sheba, and wherever I went, she went.  I took her from Tennessee, to Louisiana, to Virginia, back to Tennessee, to Kentucky, and now we are back in Virginia. I made sure that wherever I lived would be conducive to having a cat.

Sheba has always been an indoor cat, but I chose not to have her declawed, so she could go outside when she wanted. She likes to chase mice and squirrels, and scamper up and down trees like a pro.

From the beginning, Sheba has been my “glue” cat. By that, I mean she has always been stuck to me like glue. For sixteen years, she has not only followed me from state to state, but also from room to room. No matter how quietly I leave a room, it seems when I move, a bell goes off in her head, because she’ll cock one eye open, see me leaving the room, and get up and follow me.

Sheba has always been territorial and she loves to sit on either mine or Paul’s lap. When we go to bed at night, she walks down the hall behind us, and when we get settled in bed, she climbs in on top of one of us, or in between us.  She’s strange, in that she’s never welcomed other animals into her circle, but she loves humans, especially those who will pet her and make over her. When she is being petted, she reminds me of a peacock being preened.  

I learned in December, 2011, that she had a tumor in her stomach and kidney disease. In three short months, the tumor has grown to the point where it’s taking up so much room in her stomach, she cannot eat, and she is in kidney failure. The veterinarian had put her on a regimen of medicine in hopes that we could prolong her life. And we did, for three months.

I’m dreading this morning, but I know it’s what I have to do because I cannot let her suffer. I watched her closely all yesterday afternoon, and all she seemed to be able to do was to lay still. I kept picking her up and cuddling her to my heart, while I told her how much I’d miss her and what a great blessing she has been in my life. I cried into her soft grey fur, as she quietly absorbed my sorrow and my great love for her. I have not heard a meow from her, nor has she eaten, or gone to the bathroom since yesterday.

I’m heartsick, but I know it’s time to say good-bye and let her go. Later this morning, I will sit with her on my lap, while the IV that is dripping into her body will make her fall into a deep sleep, Then the doctor will give her a shot that will end her life. I’ve arranged for her body to be picked up by a local funeral home, where she will be cremated, and her remains will be returned to me.

How will I possibly find the courage to say good-bye to my companion of almost sixteen years? I’m not sure yet, but I trust that over the next few days I’ll be okay, because I know in my heart it’s the humane thing to do. At least Paul will be with me, and I will not have to do this alone.

Good-bye my girl. I will miss your constant companionship, and I will always love you. You are part of my family, and you are like my child.  You’re my beloved Sheba.

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About brendamarroy

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This entry was posted in Consciousness, Family, Feelings, Making choices, Reflections, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

24 Responses to Saying Good-Bye to Sheba

  1. Brenda, somehow I missed this post. I am so very sorry that you had to say goodbye to Sheba. How are you doing now? Are you okay? I hope the pain is easing a little.

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thanks for your kind words, Megan.
      I’m doing okay. I still have moments when I see her on the chair, or hear her moving about and I feel the sting of her loss. It gets easier with each passing day. I’m glad I gave myself all the space I needed to grieve for my beloved Sheba, because I can think of her without feeling any heaviness.

      • I’m glad that your okay – well as okay as you can be.

        I’ve started grieving for my cat heavily again in the last few weeks. Although he didn’t pass away. I had to re-home him after my marriage broke down. I couldn’t bring him to the rental that I am in now.

        At the time (6 months ago) I had so much going on that I didn’t give it the time and space it deserved – to acknowledge my feelings. Now all these months on I am grieving deeply for him – he was my baby and I miss him dearly.

  2. Hi Brenda – sending massive healing hugs from afar. My heart goes out to you in your time of grief. They are indeed magickal and spiritual souls and their presence will always be missed.

    Love and light alwayz
    Michele x ♥

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thank you Michele. Yes, animals are such beautiful, magickal souls. She brought me many gifts, and I’ve noticed how she’s continuing to bless me even after leaving the planet. Love and light to you also.

  3. pathwriter says:

    I’m so sorry about Sheba, Brenda. Thinking of you…

  4. Crone I mourn your loss of your beloved Sheba . I wish I was there to hug and hold you to some how help with your loss.I cry with you and feel your sorrow even though I’m thousands of miles away. Love and Light

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thank you Crone. My heart is heavy with grief, yet, I feel light with the beauty that she created, even in her death. Sheba was a gift, and she’s still giving. I feel your hugs and I know you are with me in my sorrow. I’m blessed to be able to cry freely and deeply, and that has helped. Love right back to you. I miss you fiercely and trust we’ll see each other next time you come to the states.

  5. Butch Dean says:

    I can appreciate your heartache.

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thank you Butch. Pets are so special, aren’t they? This beautiful creature was a gift in my life, and I will carry the blessing of knowing her and sharing life with her forever.

  6. Jen Church says:

    Goodbye to a wonderful Cat….so sorry to read this news!!

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thanks yaya. It’s been a very tough day. She had a beautiful, peaceful death, and I was with her to the end. She knew how much I loved her, as I knew her love for me. She truly was an extra-special cat and I was blessed to have her in my life.

  7. {{{HUGS}}} What a beautiful friend you are to have the strength to help Sheba and be there for her in her hour of need. Much love to you both, and your family at such a sad time. Bless xx

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thank you Nicole. Paul and I sat with her and stroked her and loved on her until she took her last breath. Right now, I feel like a bowl of mush. I’m very grateful for the peaceful death she had. She was as beautiful in death as she was in life.

  8. Betsy says:

    We all go through this, dear Brenda. You have been incredibly lucky to have such a staunch, loving companion for 16 years. And now that it’s her turn to cross the rainbow bridge, you’ll be there to help her. She’ll be waiting for you when it’s your turn. Until then, look for her in all her favorite places. She’ll be there, telling you she loves you, thanking you for being her forever kitty mom, and waiting.

    • brendamarroy says:

      I just heard of and read The Rainbow Bridge this morning. Yes, I was so fortunate to have had this beautiful soul for as long as I did. I asked her to please make sure I knew when she was around. Her death was very peaceful and I’m glad I didn’t wait another day to let her go. She suffered all yesterday afternoon and evening, and I knew I couldn’t keep her around for one more day.Thank you for your comforting words, Betsy.

  9. giannakali says:

    sending love to you and Sheba…my cats have been my teachers and friends…I’m so sorry for you loss.

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thank you for your kind words. Sheba has always been my familiar and I’ve learned many lessons from her. Even in her death, I was learning a new lesson. I was blessed to have this beautiful, kind and gentle soul for a companion for so many years. I trust she’s resting in peace.

  10. susan says:

    Sending you love. Sheba will give you strength

    • brendamarroy says:

      Thank you Susan. Sheba was an incredible friend and familiar for many years. Right now, I’m filled with grief and a sense of loss. I appreciate your kind words.

  11. Roseann T. Kriebel says:

    Thank you for sharing Sheba, Brenda. We all shed our tears in concert with yours. Heartfelt blessings….

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