The reason I’ve been MIA the last 2 weeks is my 18 year old cat George. He’s been my longest relationship, my buddy, and has been with me through all the challenges and hardships I’ve had for almost 2 decades.
He loves life, is referred to as a “dog cat” since he acts more like a dog than a cat by playing fetch when he was young to running to the door when a visitor arrives. He’s had health challenges – kidney problems and thyroid issues and a small heart murmur- but for the most part he’s been a pretty healthy cat.
By nature my constitution is about hope. I always hold hope for clients, life, and myself in general. The hardest moments of my life were when someone close to me committed suicide and it cut to the core of who I am – there was no hope for that person any longer.
George is dying. Because he loves life he’s holding on. I’ve been in a quandary about what to do. He’s lost a lot of weight and doesn’t want to eat much yet fluctuates between wandering around the house looking to see what’s going on to sleeping most of the day. Last night I found him in the bathtub (he sometimes likes to go there) licking up the drops, although his water bowl was full.
Where do you draw the line between hope and compassion? I’m hoping he just falls asleep and I don’t need to make a decision but maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe I have wishful thinking.
I’m writing this blog in hopes to come to reconcile what to do – if anything and I welcome comments.
My hope for the world may be getting in the way of what to do for George but I think that’s what makes me successful with helping to create change in others – hope vs. compassion – and thanks for listening to my words each week.
George went to kitty heaven a day after I wrote this – he deteriorted the next 24 hours and I had to put him down. He played with his ice cubes beforehand and then looked at me knowing he was ready. Thanks for all who wrote.