blessings of a grief yet to come

I forgot to post my August writing prompts (they have just been sent out) because I haven't been able to sleep much.

My little old lady of a cat, Mon, is ill.

In late June, we had to take her in to the vet, and we found an infection in her gum as well as a tumor. The infection has been dealt with, but the tumor is already in her jaw. Neither my partner nor I wished for Mon to suffer the pain of more surgery, given that to remove the tumor would mean she has to lose most of her lower jaw and her quality of life, however long she has left, will be exceedingly poor.

Since she has a heart murmur, I was exceedingly terrified that she would not have survived surgery. Thankfully, she pulled through with the skill of the vets (and possibly also with the fervor and piety of the mantras I chanted the morning I handed her over to the vet clinic). However, we know that the tumor is a terminal condition; the only question is how long she has left with us.

Right now she remains much like herself -- she eats and drinks with little trouble, though she dislikes the fact that she has to have her gum syringed with water after she has wet food, she has gained some weight back, and she demands the best part of the bed. My other two are no longer bullying her, and her brother Mi sleeps near her for most of the day. Maybe they are also sensing that her health is slowly declining.

I think I spent most of July on the verge of tears, but now I am better able to regulate my emotions. We are fortunate to have Mon for a while longer, even as we look for appropriate urns and I have looked up the numbers for home euthanasia options. I have grieved the passing of my pet before, and back then I didn't know enough to make his passing less traumatic; I hadn't even graduated then, and the vet was not compassionate enough to explain in more detail. Now we have both the means and the access to resources to make sure it will be as comfortable for her as possible when the time comes, and I will want my other cats to know when she passes, rather than have them wonder why she never comes home.

It is painful that I have to make these plans, but I would not trade a single day of the past 16 years with Mon nor the coming however-long I have with her with anything else. I thought I would lose her to the operating table; having her with us right now is already a blessing, even if it is a blessing to prepare for future sorrow.

Grief is the price of love, as the saying goes; I will pay it without complaint.