Point of decision

We are responsible.

We all are, in some ways responsible. for many things.

But for some things - our four legged friends - we are totally responsible.

There is no way to back out - to say, it's not our fault. We feed them; house them; we twist their natural patterns of life into things to suit us. They are more our responsibility then our children - for if we fail children they can be taken away. Schools will notice, doctors or nurses. Later on, they can leave.

But our pets - they are our responsibilities. Every ounce of suffering is ours to give - or take away.

We have to make the decisions.

But when do you make them?

The day you're told she's ill, and is going to die? We all die, some sooner then others. Right now, she's just got some odd symptoms and a bad blood test. Nothing will happen for months.

So you out it off, you say she's happy. It can wait - till there's something wrong with here.

Perhaps a little later, when the first overt symptoms develop. The arthritis starts to kick in. The thyroid problems need daily medicine - just like any human sufferer. But it's only a tablet, nothing to drastic. And she's still playing with her mice...till she eats them...

And anyway, one pill a day is easy. She just can't climb trees and catch birds midflight.

Or maybe later still, when she develops a hunger - a terrible desire for food, earlier and sooner every month. Still, it's only food - what's a doubling of the catfood bill?

Even then you think of the past - when we nursed her through a usually lethal disease, as she sat, night after night curled up with me. Hardly eating, being coaxed to take the smallest mouthful. Still, we made it.

What's a bit of cat food?

And slowly down the garden path of complacency you stroll, carrying the poor mite with you.

Sometime, somewhere you reach the last few turns in the path.

Shedding of fur, sleeping almost all the time. Her coat changing in days to a dull, differently textured affair. She's not comfortable anywhere, always shifting and moving.

Unsteady on her feet, sitting down the moment something or someone touches her. Not because she doesn't want to, but so that she can't fall.

Still walking down that garden path, knowing that one day - one day soon - a phonecall will be made. A friend called - a friend who's known her as long as us, who provides the drugs and advice. Tests and knowledge - the vet.

Some day the vet will visit, with a Solution. And every day you think that maybe....maybe the view tomorrow won't be that bad. Maybe I don't have to call.

But every day the path gets shorter - and you know how bad the garden is, down at the very end.

But the responsibility to make the decision...that's still yours. All yours.

And nothing can take it away.