On the 4th of July, my plans to spend the day at a cook out with a friend fell through. As a result, I had a relaxing quiet day at home with Ollie. While feeling sorry for myself over the fall-out with a close friend, I spent a lazy in morning in bed with sweet Ollie. She snuggled down next to me on a pile of soft blankets while I donned pajamas and channel surfed. We had a nice, quiet morning but when I finally dragged myself out of bed, I noticed Ollie didn't follow--very unusual as she always jumped out of bed when I got up.
I was told she was having problems with her kidneys and that she would need to stay in the hospital for several days. I was able to go back and check on her before I left for the night, kissing her gently on the top of her soft little head. I cannot begin to describe how difficult is was for me to leave my sweet little baby there all alone. As I walked to my car, tears running down my face, the sounds of fireworks exploding over the city of Indianapolis filled the quiet night.
Friday morning I was able to pick Olive up and get her to our vet. I cannot say enough about our vet. She is the most caring, compassionate, intelligent vet I have ever met--this was all apparent by the level of love and care she gave to Opus. There is no one I would trust more with my pets than this woman. I knew she would do everything she could do for Olive, including letting me know when it was time to give up the fight. Olive was given constant fluids via an IV, and I was told there nothing we could do but wait--she would either get better by morning or worse. It was the longest night of my life.
Ollie had had several serious bladder infections this past spring. The vet had warned me that they could be a precursor to chronic kidney problems; I thought this was what we were facing. I was wrong. During the night, Ollie's kidneys had failed to produce urine. As a result, all the fluids she had been given were backing up in her body. She had gained two pounds in water weight. I knew we had to say good bye to her before the fluids hit her heart and lungs.
My mom had driven down when Ollie first got sick and thankfully was me, as she was when I helped Opus to the bridge. Together we drove to the vet's to say good bye to our girl. Once there we hugged and kissed Ollie. I whispered to my cat softly, thanking her for the laughter she brought to me, for the happiness she gave. I thanked her for her constant companionship. For her loyal friendship. And lastly, I thanked her for her unconditional love. I was stroking her and talking to her, my nose to hers, when she left this world. I imagine Opus was waiting at the bridge with his brother Roscoe to welcome Ollie and show her around.
Ollie was a seven-year-old shelter cat when she came into my life and left this earth when she was eleven. Even though we only had four years together, we packed a lot into that small amount of time. Somehow in this large, crazy world we found each other. We traveled to Italy and back together. That sweet little calico cat helped me some the darkest days of my life. And for that, I will always be grateful. She will live on forever in my memory and deep within my heart.
Rest in peace, sweet Ollie.