Quality of Life

Girl from Texas left a comment on my March 26 entry, saying that there was such a thing as quality of living, and that it was a very important variable in the decision as to when to euthanize a pet.

It made me wonder: What is quality of life for a cat? Except for those rare cats that belong to adventurous people, cats don't go hiking, or to operas, or on vacations to the beach, or out to fancy restaurants. They don't have dinner parties with friends, or read books or go to museums. They don't write blogs, or keep in touch with friends through e-mail, or do creative things like painting and needlepoint and the like.

What is quality of life for a house cat that never goes outside. Wolfie used to sleep on the dog bed, sit in the front window and watch people and dogs go by, then sleep in a little patch of sunlight coming in through the dining room window. Then he would look out the window at birds he cannot chase, and sleep some more. When we got home from work, he was happy to be fed, and then he checked out Kira's bowl to see if she had left him any little tidbits (usually, she did). Then he came to sleep on the sofa near us. We have a little space heater that the cats think of as their own personal little fireplace. Wolfie absolutely loved the "fireplace." If it was not on, he would sit in front of it an look at me, willing me to turn it on for him, so he could curl up on the floor in front of it (his hearth) and ... sleep. But that was it. Sleep, eat, look out the window, be petted, lick Daily, rub against Kira.

I think that quality of life for a house cat must be comfort and love. I have always felt that all of my pets have both comfort and love in spades. They are well cared for and very well loved. But now that he is gone, I have these little doubts...did I love little Wolfie enough? Setting aside religious beliefs, just how much are you supposed to love a pet? I love all my pets, but I am closer to Daily than any of the others. I call him my "familiar." It's like he knows what I am thinking, and he is funny and lively and so affectionate. And yet, I also like to call him the "pain-in-the-butt-cat." I could not imagine going through this with him. Yet, I know someday I will have to. At what point is comfort and love not enough?

I have a dear friend who simply could not say goodbye to a cat that was dying of stomach cancer, and with excellent veterinarian care, she managed to keep that little cat alive for six more months (at a cost of $12,000). She said she just could not stand the thought of not having this little being with her. Now, well removed from the event, she says she wishes she hadn't put the little cat through all that. But in my opinion, it wasn't just the cat that suffered. She put herself through so much grief over those six months, trying to prolong the inevitable. As it is, I feel really bad about how long Wolfie had his asthma. He didn't seem to have any real trouble living with it for 8 years, but lately it started to act up more and more. I think the secondary infection is what caused the collapsed lung. But then again, I am not a vet.

I do miss Wolfie very much. I miss his sweet little face, with the black lips that look like a kiss. I miss his funny little sound like a purr and meow put together... "gwaww." I really miss the way he would sit on the stool in the kitchen and reach out to pat me with his paw. He was so endearing when he sat up on his haunches and reached out with both paws to grab my arm.

I think we second guess ourselves whenever we have to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I regret the loss of Rocky, Toby, Sadie, Ziggy, and now Wolfie. But I cannot regret letting them into my life and my heart. There's nothing like being greeted at the door by those loving little faces after a rough day at the office.

And so, I know I will face the loss again and again, as long as I bring these little beings into my life. Which I will continue to do. Will I get another cat any time soon? I don't think so...at least not right now. Someday, maybe. Not now.