Let the Cat Out (Part One)
We got our cats years before any of our children joined the family. By the time our kids came into the picture, all three of our cats were geriatric.
Last year we had the inevitable experience of saying good-bye for the first time. We came home from dinner one night to find Tigger, our sweetest cat, breathing heavily, drooling and lethargic.
I scooped him up, left my husband with the kids and took him to the emergency pet clinic near our home. I was told he had fluid in his lungs and his heart was swollen. Even with medication he would not live very long and it would be a sad prolonged exit from this world. I decided to put him to sleep. As I sat gently petting my sweet, old, cat, I said my good-byes.
After he died, I was given a cremation choice between mass disposal at sea and having the remains returned to me in a little wooden box. I silently and sarcastically questioned whether my pet will be the one returned to me. I didn’t want to regret a mass cremation at sea decision though. So, I paid the extra $50 to get my cat back in a box…even though I seriously doubt Tigger is going to be in there. It’s probably not even a cat in the box…in all likelihood it’s some other lady’s beloved dog, Precious.
On the way home I thought about ways to explain to the kids what happened to Tigger and questioned how much detail to go into about our first experience with death. I got to say good-bye and they really had no warning.
The next morning, I told the kids that Tigger died. I made it simple. He was old, got sick and died. To my surprise, they didn’t ask any follow up questions. I didn’t offer additional detail. I’ve read parents shouldn’t give their children more information than they are ready for. I figured, we have two more very old cats; we’ll be doing this again soon.
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A few weeks passed. We were having a lazy Saturday morning when Donovan, our delivery guy, brought a small package to the door. The kids love Donovan. He’s friendly and always brings us surprises!
My daughter announces the truck pulling up, “We’re getting something Mom! We got a package!” She greets Donovan enthusiastically at the door to collect it then hands it to me. She returns to the couch to finish her show.
I open the box on the kitchen counter and realize it’s the cat, “Oh! I think it’s Tigger!” I say to my husband, who is standing next to me in the kitchen.
My daughter’s head spins around from the couch, “What?! Tigger’s back?”
I look up and realize Oh! It’s Tigger! probably isn’t the way I should have announced our surprise delivery.
I lift the engraved, locked, cedar box out of the package so she can see it, reminding her gently Tigger died and when animals and people die, they don’t come back to us. I briefly explain that sometimes people and pets are cremated, a detail that means absolutely nothing to her.
There is silence for a little while as the wooden box with Tigger’s name etched on top stares back at us.
“He’s in there?” she asks confused.
“Yes sweetie,” I try to say in a consoling way.
She cocks her head, placing her ear on the box, eyes looking up toward the ceiling in concentration, listening for him. “Well? Let him out Mom!!” she exclaims excitedly, ready to play.
We’ll do a better job with the next cat.
We lost our Stanley a few years back and we have a similar box. 🙁
I am sorry to hear about Stanley! It’s so sad to say good-bye to our pets!