It never gets easier. I feel like someone pulled my heart out of my chest, then stomped on it. I had to say, "Goodbye, dear friend," as I cradled her soft chin in my hand and told her, "I love you, Buzi."
My beloved feline pal Buzi was humanely euthanized on June 10, 2014. I only had her for two years and four months, knowing when I brought her into my home she had a huge tumor in her abdomen, as well as other health issues. I wanted her life, whatever time she had left, to be peaceful, comfortable, and most of all filled with love. She was not cared for by her previous owners, and then left abandoned, where she was found six months later living under a porch. I'm amazed she survived that ordeal, and so is the veterinarian. We're not sure how old she is, but she came to live with me on February 1, 2012. I named her Buzi because it means "kiss" in Polish.
Buzi and I had quiet time every morning on the front porch, in all four seasons. I had a cup of coffee in one hand and petted Buzi with the other hand as she sat and purred beside me. When I came home from the barn, she always greeted me at the door with her happy-to-see-you "Meow" greeting. During the remainder of the day she curled up on the divan in my office, unless there was a sunbeam on the floor. At night she slept on the king size bed always purring beside me.
I miss her paw prints on my bedspread, her loyal and loving companionship, her very sweet disposition, and all things that made her so special. Making that final decision was awful. I wanted one more day, just one more day. But the tumor took it's toll. Buzi couldn't eat or drink anymore. It was time. She was so weak. Her last moments were lounging in a sunbeam near the flower garden, before her final trip to the veterinarian.
At least I am comforted to know she was totally loved in her final years, and that we will be together again on the other side of the rainbow. Right now I'm sure she's napping in her favorite, forever sunbeam.
Think I'll go to Jenny's for a hug.