Such Good Friends
I don’t always take calls in my car, but the call was from the friend I planned to have dinner with, so a brief conversation on when and where to meet seemed in order.
Barely a few seconds after we exchanged greetings and referred to the unpredictable weather, Jesse began talking about having an “unexpected” obligation.
She didn’t ask to cancel or postpone, but I could tell something was on her mind besides whether we’d go for Thai or Mexican for our long overdue evening of catching up.
Jesse dropped bits of information about the many things she was juggling; the proposals she delivered weeks before that were finally getting responses, confirmation that she had to start looking for a new place to live, and the latest news on her cat.
As a single woman over sixty myself, I know how important it is to share space with a dog or cat.
I can’t imagine life without having a special friend who’s always happy to see me, can easily bliss out on small displays of affection, and exercises an uncanny sense for when to leave me alone and when I need to walk away from my computer and play.
As Carolina is FAMILY to Jesse, my dog, India, is FAMILY to me.
For many months, her feline friend had been in decline. During periodic phone calls, I heard about just some of the things she did to extend thirteen year-old Carolina’s life.
Frequent vet visits, special food and medication, constant litter box cleaning, flattened out cardboard boxes and plastic sheets laid around their dining table in case of accidents — all these things became part of Jesse’s home life for months.
Jesse summed things up simply, “I know this can’t go on. She’s down to almost five pounds. I checked with Anti-Cruelty to see what is involved in having them euthanize her. I have a 4:30 appointment for today.”
I’m not sure where the answer came from in me. This errand was certainly not one I expected to perform, but the words came without thinking.
“I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t have to drive. You have so much on your mind. Besides, you should spend whatever time you can giving Carolina your attention. I’ll come by at 3:45. I will call when I’m close. Hopefully, you can get her in her carrier.”
We hung up. When I pulled up in front of her building, Jesse was already outside. As she got settled in the front passenger’s seat, she described how Carolina put up no protests about getting into the carrier, as if she wanted to make things easier for her.
Jesse placed the latched plastic box on her lap, lattice-side toward her face, explaining, “So she can see me.”
Jesse provided driving instructions to me while carrying on a conversation with Carolina.
“You’re such a good friend. You’re such a good kitty.”
These affirmations, these words of love and gratitude continued throughout our drive, our check-in and appointment. In retrospect, I think Jesse used present tense and past tense interchangeably, as in “You’re such a good friend, such a good kitty” became “You’ve been such a good friend, such a good kitty.”
Jesse asked me into the procedure room, which I didn’t expect. The staff was extremely respectful and caring. They explained the two-step process. They’d take Carolina out to another room where they’d give her a sedative then come back for the actual “injection” and final goodbyes.
When they brought Carolina back, she was wrapped in a soft blanket. She looked so small. Calm, almost deliciously sleepy, as if curling up in front of the heating vent in Jesse’s bathroom.
The vet tech was ever so gentle. Carolina didn’t make a fuss. Jesse echoed the day’s mantra. “You’re such a good kitty. You’ve been such a good friend” and sobbed for a few minutes when it was clear that the life force had left her cat’s body.
On the drive back to her apartment, Jesse expressed being sad but also relieved. Her eyes were especially clear, like the sky after it rains.
She repeated how Carolina went into her carrier uncharacteristically easily. She thanked me for handling the transportation.
I felt so grateful myself for being able to be there, for being able to provide some level of service and for being able to share such an incredible moment of intimacy. I witnessed such vulnerability and unconditional love.
Surrounding yourself with such good friends is no small thing.
Re-printed with permission.
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Deborah Hawkins has been blogging on gratitude and mindfulness for over a decade, posting over 500 essays. In December of 2019, she brought out two books, The Best of No Small Thing — Mindful Meditations, a collection of favorite blogs, and Practice Gratitude: Transform Your Life — Making the Uplifting Experience of Gratitude Intentional, a workbook on her process. Through her books, classes, and coaching, she teaches people how to identify things to be grateful for in everyday experiences.
Visit Deborah at: Visit No Small Thing