I'm fairly certain that anyone who knows me, even just a little, would say that I take being a parent pretty seriously. It's a great job really. Not that I was remotely qualified or ready for the duty but somehow, someway, we've muddled through. And like most jobs there's a portion of the job that is great...so naturally there's a portion that sucks. A couple of weeks ago, I got a primo reminder of this.
[Flashback time]
When Kristie and I bought our first house back in 1988, we had a plan. First the house. Then a dog and a cat. Then kids. Oh yea, before kids, we needed a car. And we executed that plan. Our nifty little house in Highlands Ranch was really nice, for a "starter" home. Two weeks later, we went to the Denver Dumb Friends League and picked out a nice little Golden Retriever/Aussie puppy and a tiny little black and white kitten. The dog was named Sadie, the cat Rita. Phase two of the plan complete. We went on to successfully execute the rest of the plan.
Sadie and Rita grew up together and actually got along very well. Their first year together they actually slept together and Rita had this great game with Sadie where she'd sneak up behind her and swat at her tail, ultimately tearing off (permanently) the little splotch of white that the dog had on the end of her tail. But I guess maturity or something took hold and the cat became the aloof cat that she was and the dog remained just the stupid dog. Not Tom & Jerry enemies or anything...just merely roommates I guess. It was sad when a few years later, Sadie escaped from our backyard and got hit by a car. Not sad for Rita, she was ambivalent. Kristie and I decided at that time that we just weren't home enough to have a dog and that trusty old Rita would have to be the family pet. Somehow, someway, I've been conned over the last 10 years and we've managed to acquire 2 other dogs (we still have one...) and another cat. But Rita has remained the constant. The girls had never not had Rita.
Fast forward to today and Rita....well Rita has had a good life. As cats go, she's had quite a life. She used to love to go outside and hunt for all sorts of things, bringing them into our basement...it was always great fun to find a half eaten snake or bird in the basement! At our house in Littleton, she loved to lay in the front window in the sun, watching things go by. She had slowed a little but was still a good old cat. She tolerated the move to Maine...Rita hates the car and went outside some, but had evolved into a mostly indoor cat. We had all of her claws removed early in her life, but she still thrived outside when she was younger, but at her age we feared her lack of defence, so it was just as well that she was content with mostly just hanging out inside. When we moved back to Colorado, she really lost her will to go outside and in the last couple of years, she wouldn't even think about it. She had her favorite spots to sleep, she allowed us to pet her and scratch her endlessly...or at least until she was done and while she was clearly aging, she never got nasty and old. She had always been sweet old Rita.
Since last spring, it was clear that she wasn't doing so well. Whether it was senility or stubbornness, she stopped using her litter box...so our basement was it's replacement. Kelly and I had to constantly go down there and clean up, put down new pads and really just grit our teeth...but it was Rita. She was also really beginning to have trouble keeping food down, so when we weren't cleaning up her mess from the back end, we had to clean up her barf. So a couple of months ago, I really started watching her and observing her eating patterns...because she wasn't making nearly the mess that she had been. The assumptions were correct sadly. She had figured out that it was just easier not to eat or at least not eat much solid food. So she sucked down water and slowly but surely turned into a walking skeleton. But she still had a little spark in her. Then a couple of weeks ago, we noticed that she was spitting up the water and wasn't even able to jump up into her favorite chair. The end, it seemed was near. But Kristie and I (well mostly Kristie to be honest) had decided that she was still not completely gone and we'd keep on hanging on.
Then two Mondays ago, Kristie went down stairs and found Rita crawling only on her front legs, unable to move her back legs. Kelly and I had both noticed that a couple of days before but she was still slightly ambulatory. Kristie came up to me and said it was time.
So I let the girls say good bye to her. I put the cat in Rita's little car carrier and took the cat back to the Denver Dumb Friends League. I say cat and not Rita, because I firmly believe that Rita was gone. Gone was the sparkle in her eye, the acknowledgement of the years that we'd all had together. Rita hated her carrier, this cat didn't care. Rita hated car rides, the cat that I took to the shelter didn't utter a peep. Rita hated the smell of vet's offices, nothing from the old cat that just simply wanted to go to sleep. We put her in a little cage type thing and they wheeled her back to some room...where she got to do just that. Goodnight Rita.
And that's why being the Dad stinks.
[Flashback time]
When Kristie and I bought our first house back in 1988, we had a plan. First the house. Then a dog and a cat. Then kids. Oh yea, before kids, we needed a car. And we executed that plan. Our nifty little house in Highlands Ranch was really nice, for a "starter" home. Two weeks later, we went to the Denver Dumb Friends League and picked out a nice little Golden Retriever/Aussie puppy and a tiny little black and white kitten. The dog was named Sadie, the cat Rita. Phase two of the plan complete. We went on to successfully execute the rest of the plan.
Sadie and Rita grew up together and actually got along very well. Their first year together they actually slept together and Rita had this great game with Sadie where she'd sneak up behind her and swat at her tail, ultimately tearing off (permanently) the little splotch of white that the dog had on the end of her tail. But I guess maturity or something took hold and the cat became the aloof cat that she was and the dog remained just the stupid dog. Not Tom & Jerry enemies or anything...just merely roommates I guess. It was sad when a few years later, Sadie escaped from our backyard and got hit by a car. Not sad for Rita, she was ambivalent. Kristie and I decided at that time that we just weren't home enough to have a dog and that trusty old Rita would have to be the family pet. Somehow, someway, I've been conned over the last 10 years and we've managed to acquire 2 other dogs (we still have one...) and another cat. But Rita has remained the constant. The girls had never not had Rita.
Fast forward to today and Rita....well Rita has had a good life. As cats go, she's had quite a life. She used to love to go outside and hunt for all sorts of things, bringing them into our basement...it was always great fun to find a half eaten snake or bird in the basement! At our house in Littleton, she loved to lay in the front window in the sun, watching things go by. She had slowed a little but was still a good old cat. She tolerated the move to Maine...Rita hates the car and went outside some, but had evolved into a mostly indoor cat. We had all of her claws removed early in her life, but she still thrived outside when she was younger, but at her age we feared her lack of defence, so it was just as well that she was content with mostly just hanging out inside. When we moved back to Colorado, she really lost her will to go outside and in the last couple of years, she wouldn't even think about it. She had her favorite spots to sleep, she allowed us to pet her and scratch her endlessly...or at least until she was done and while she was clearly aging, she never got nasty and old. She had always been sweet old Rita.
Since last spring, it was clear that she wasn't doing so well. Whether it was senility or stubbornness, she stopped using her litter box...so our basement was it's replacement. Kelly and I had to constantly go down there and clean up, put down new pads and really just grit our teeth...but it was Rita. She was also really beginning to have trouble keeping food down, so when we weren't cleaning up her mess from the back end, we had to clean up her barf. So a couple of months ago, I really started watching her and observing her eating patterns...because she wasn't making nearly the mess that she had been. The assumptions were correct sadly. She had figured out that it was just easier not to eat or at least not eat much solid food. So she sucked down water and slowly but surely turned into a walking skeleton. But she still had a little spark in her. Then a couple of weeks ago, we noticed that she was spitting up the water and wasn't even able to jump up into her favorite chair. The end, it seemed was near. But Kristie and I (well mostly Kristie to be honest) had decided that she was still not completely gone and we'd keep on hanging on.
Then two Mondays ago, Kristie went down stairs and found Rita crawling only on her front legs, unable to move her back legs. Kelly and I had both noticed that a couple of days before but she was still slightly ambulatory. Kristie came up to me and said it was time.
So I let the girls say good bye to her. I put the cat in Rita's little car carrier and took the cat back to the Denver Dumb Friends League. I say cat and not Rita, because I firmly believe that Rita was gone. Gone was the sparkle in her eye, the acknowledgement of the years that we'd all had together. Rita hated her carrier, this cat didn't care. Rita hated car rides, the cat that I took to the shelter didn't utter a peep. Rita hated the smell of vet's offices, nothing from the old cat that just simply wanted to go to sleep. We put her in a little cage type thing and they wheeled her back to some room...where she got to do just that. Goodnight Rita.
And that's why being the Dad stinks.