To Harry, The Best Cat Ever.

 "Harry was the best cat ever."

We ended the day, today, the last day of the year, on this.

Harry was a 16 year old debonair, distinguished, dark tabby dying from kidney failure, and all of the myriad of afflictions it brings with it. Kidney failure brings you a cascade of  collaterals. You are hungry, but too nauseous to eat. You are frail, but still want to try to jump up on the counter because in your kitty brain you are still a total badass, yet unable to gain any air. You are thirsty, drain the water bowl dry, pee out the buckets in piles voluminous and dehydrating, only to walk to the water bowl again, and again, to have the thirst never quenched and the march to the box never cease. You become tired from the anguish of your starving muscles from the anemia in your bones inability to replenish the red blood cells that let your muscles do your bidding. You fail in tiny stumbles until there is no wind left in the sails. Harry, well, Harry was the husbands cat, and the husband was in the car, to distraught to come inside to share in the goodbye.

Today was the last day I will be a veterinarian in 2023. Do I remember my fist day of 2023? No, but I will always remember today.

"Harry was the best cat I have ever had. I am 88 years old, and Harry was it." 

Harry's mom was short, quiet, smiling, gentle and full of pleasantries of gratitude that he was here with all of us, and loved. She held him for a moment, bent over to whisper that "you are the best cat ever," then kissed his forehead, and gave him a solid scratch under his chin. Harry was curled up, too tired to be afraid of the vets office. We stood nearby waiting for them to have their last moments together. Harry's mom wasn't remorseful about the days he didn't have left. When Harry was sleeping she looked at us and smiled. There weren't tears, nor fretful second guesses of hesitation. She said thank you to every staff member and left us with a laugh to replace the tears with her wisdom brought perspective. She told us how she had been coming to JVC for over 30 years. She told me that she first walked into JVC as a veterinary sales rep. She met Dr Wilson and knew immediately that this was the only vet clinic she would bring her pets to. She said that over all of these years this place was still full of love, and hope and kindness.

We shared stories about how Harry had found them, how they had found each other, and how much they all loved each other. 

Today was December 31st, walk-in appointments were from 1-3, an Harry was the caboose on the end of the year. The last patient I saw. The last person I shared the day with over the lifetime of a loved family member they would grieve and miss for years to come.

I had decided to open for Christmas eve, and New Years eve for the clients whose pets wouldn't make it the 12 hours ER wait, or the 24 hour closed day pause. For the patients like Harry. To be there on their last day is as meaningful, or maybe more so, on their last than it is on their first. The honor of being able to say goodbye to someone so loved they mark our life with stories that give our purpose placement. That was Harry.

As we all toast a glass to a year ahead I take a few moments to feel the weight and the gratitude that sharing little piece's of our most beloved companions brings. How can we walk forward with anticipation and joy if we don't remember what the past has brought us, or taken away. There is never a full cup without the vessels promise of empty and the chance to fill the cup again and start another day with the memories that made us who we are and how lucky we are to have been here. 

I set out to be a veterinarian all those many years ago to be a part of these stories. The happy ones, the sad ones, but most importantly the ones that remind us who we are when we put our whole selves out there to live every moment of the life we are given.

Rex, adopted 24 hours ago from a local shelter by one of our technicians.
The face of second chances and a better year ahead.
For Auld Lang Syne

Here's to you Harry, and your parents, thank you for being a part of every day that I get to live the best job ever. 

Raffles, my adventurous one