Saying Goodbye is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do…

I know I like to keep it light and fun on the newsletters, but if you will allow me a moment of human weakness (and if you’re not into hearing about it, please feel free to skip to the next section), I had to put my best friend down earlier this month and I’m a little sad about it.

HOW WAFFLES CAME INTO MY LIFE
Waffles entered into my life when I was in a very vulnerable state. I had just gotten out of a relationship that still to this day never had solid closure, the economy was in a slump and I had lost my job, and I was looking at potentially uprooting from my home state and moving somewhere else in the world.

Enter my buddy Danny, who had just lost his job at Borders Corporate when the company filed for bankruptcy. Danny was unloading all of his stuff, since he only wanted to take three things home with him: His Bed, His TV, and His Computer. “Everything in the apartment must go,” he said. “Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

“I’ll take those fancy computer chairs,” I replied.

“Wonderful,” He said. “And how do you feel about cats?”

Danny owned a tiny little black kitten named Waffles, but as he was planning to move back home with his family in Florida, he told me Waffles couldn’t come with him (his parents were allergic). Now, I hadn’t had a pet in many years (I grew up with dogs), and I had been diagnosed with a slight pet dander allergy in college, so I wasn’t particularly interested in a cat. But Danny invited me over to meet the cat all the same, and let me know it was me or the Humane Society. So I agreed to come over and meet the cat.

One night we’re sitting in what would become my new computer chairs playing video games, and this little fuzz ball is zipping around back and forth. Eventually, she tries to climb up my leg (she’s not big enough to jump up onto my lap). And Danny tells me, “Whatever you do, don’t pick her up.” But I don’t listen to Danny. I pick up Waffles. I place her in my lap. And she curls up and falls asleep.

Danny looks at me and says, “How did you get her to do that?! Whenever I try to snuggle with her, she smacks me in the face and runs away.”

Suffice it to say, it was love. I took the cat in.

WAFFLES OVER THE YEARS
The first day I came home from work after Waffles was living with me, though, she peed on my couch. She tried to climb up my body and perch on my shoulder like a bird whenever I was washing the dishes. She definitely had a mischievous attitude and aggressive play style, which got on my nerves at times…and endeared her to me at others.

Waffles stayed with me through my move to Chicago. Always wanting to be in the center of the room or right next to you, but not wanting to be touched by other people. Waffles was VERY particular about who she liked, and she mostly hated everyone. I joke that she tolerated me.

I found out years after marrying my wife that when we were dating, Waffles wasn’t allowed in my bedroom, and that was not okay with Waffles. So if my wife (then girlfriend) tried to leave my bedroom, Waffles was right there at the door…and would attack her! When I found out about this (again, years after we had been married), I was like, “Why am I just finding out about this now? And why the heck did you keep dating me?!?”

If ever there was a reason to make someone chose between them or a pet, Waffles wanted to give them that reason. And yet, she was somehow sweet and kind and caring. But only when SHE wanted to be.

WAFFLES IN THE END
Last year, Waffles was diagnosed with advanced kidney disease – which is common among older cats. She drank a lot of water, didn’t enjoy her dry food as much – but otherwise, was her usual self for most of the last year. We snuggled a lot. She stole my chair often (that same computer chair I got from Danny so many years earlier). And she always needed to be the center of attention.

However, after Labor Day, she kind of stopped eating. I called the vet and made an appointment to get her checked out, but over the next several days she stopped drinking. And she was sleeping all the time. She wouldn’t play. She didn’t purr. You could tell she wasn’t doing well. So I asked the vet to move up her appointment.

So I took her in. And the vet gave her a quick check. She heard a heart murmur. She felt something in her belly, which since she hadn’t been eating would likely be cancer. And she told me Waffles test results last year were a 3.1 for kidney disease – anything above a 4 was kidney failure. She could test again, but nothing was guaranteed and we would only be prolonging the inevitable.

I realized at that moment that today would be the last day I spent with Waffles.

So I told the vet we wanted to make Waffles comfortable. I wanted to stay in the room with her when it happened (I had read articles years earlier about pets strong sense of smell, and how their owners smell was comforting to them in moments of stress. After all her and I had been through, the least I could do was be there for her in the end). So the vet gave her an IV (which Waffles almost pulled out twice, because she was NOT going to go quietly). They knocked her out. She put her little head down on her paws. They gave her the shot. And then she was gone.

ON SAYING GOODBYE
One of my favorite writers, J Michael Straczynski (Babylon 5, Jeremiah, Sense 8), said this about many of his friends he’s seen go over the years:

“The more important the emotion, the fewer words are required to express it:

Will you go out with me?
I think I like you.
I care for you.
I love you.
Marry me.

And the most important word, just one, that we will say at the end to our loved ones: Goodbye.”

Saying goodbye to Waffles has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’m sad about it. And I’m going to be sad about it for a long time. But it’s not a bad thing to be sad. It shows how much she meant to me. For almost half of my life, this cat was a part of my world. And while I still think I’ll see her laying on my bed whenever I go up into my bedroom (which makes me sad when I don’t), I also remember the good times we had together and the hardships she helped me overcome. She was a true companion in life. And I’ll forever be grateful for her company along my journey.