[Personal Post] Farewell, Our Dear Prue
Since starting this travel blog a few years ago, I have consciously excluded non-travel-related content here. As I spent more time working on this blog, I realized how this “place” is also an emotional outlet for me. So I want to use this opportunity to share something personal and timely. Two days ago, Brian and I made the difficult decision to say goodbye to our beloved furry friend: Prue. Prue has been a constant companion in our life and the most loving pet that I could ever hope for. Letting go of her is honestly one of the most emotionally stresful things we have ever done.
Growing up, my family had some very orthodox “pets”, such as goldfishes, Brazilian turtles, and silkworms. So you could expect my excitement when I met Prue, my first mammal pet. From the moment I met her, she had been so sweet and accepting. The emotional bonds and friendship between Prue and Brian were deep and heart-warming. I have long viewed Prue as an extension of Brian; they share a similar temperament. I must adjust to the reality that this perpetual duo in my life is no longer the reality.
We really love our little girl Prue.
In late March, we first noticed a small bump on one side of Prue’s lower jaw. Since she had dental issues not long ago, we did not think much of it. We actually waited until after our two-week trip to Taiwan to take her to the vet. Little did we know that she may have missed the small window opportunity to eradicate what turned out to be a fast-growing tumor. We were absolutely devastated when the vet gave Prue as little as one month to live. The vet said tumor removal may be possible but would be destined to grow back.
One option presented to us was to “remove” her lower jaw, but that would have involved feeding her through a feeding tube for the rest of her life. It just seems like such a crude thing to do to our little girl. We immediately ruled that out; I can’t imagine some owners would actually contemplate doing that to their pets. From that point forward, Prue was under palliative care. For the next three months, her bodily functions did not change for the most part. According to the vets, cats are remarkable at hiding their pain. For the most part, life seemed to go on without a hitch. We had to actively reminded ourselves that our days with Prue were numbered.
Oddly enough, the most difficult decisions during this period were related to travel. Should we put all our travel plans on hold in order to take care of Prue? Considering how well she was doing, I told Brian we could not put our life on hold. We could always rush back home if there were a rapid deterioration of Prue’s conditions. With that, Brian went to Hawaii for ten days in June. Less than two weeks later, we went away to Peru for about fourteen days. It was tough to say goodbye to Prue, as it might be a forever farewell.
This picture from a couple of months ago is probably my favorite of Prue… so majestic yet gentle.
We returned from Peru a week ago and were disturbed by the physical change in Prue in such a short time. The tumor grew so quickly to cause her jaw to deform to one side. Her tongue began to stick out and drooled uncontrollably. We knew quite distinctly that the end was near. After a visit to the clinic, the doctor confirmed the rapid decline had begun and recommended possible euthanasia in the next week. Although we had been preparing ourselves for this moment, it did not make it any easier to make the fateful/lethal decision.
On Friday, we pulled the trigger to schedule an in-home euthanasia the next day. It was an incredibly uneasy feeling to begin a countdown of Prue’s life and our time together. There were a lot of cuddles and tears. What made it so heartbreaking was knowing Prue had no idea what was happening. She was still her innocent and loving self. We had to constantly remind ourselves that this was for the best of her as she would no longer be in pain. It would be selfish of us to get her with us any longer.
That evening, Brian decided to sleep with Prue on the couch. Watching them cuddling and spending one final night together really broke my heart. The feeling of finality permeated every aspect during these final hours: her last meal, the final litter box visit, and the very last cuddle. It all became emotionally overwhelming. On one hand, we wanted to soak up every bit of love and compassion from her, but it was also such a painful experience counting down the hours. We both secretly hoped that Prue would pass away in her sleep that night. It would save us from the emotional trauma of euthanasia.
I only wish now we had more pictures of our beautiful girl.
I had to find the oldest picture I had of Brian and Prue together.
Promptly at two o’clock, the vet rang the doorbell. With dread, the term “angel of death” came to our minds. We proceed to give Prue a final hug and kiss before the procedure. It was definitely among the most heart-wrenching moments in my life thus far. Innocently, Prue had no idea of what was about to happen and was still her usual sweet self. Watching her succumb to the initial anesthesia brought me to tears. Shortly after the initial injection, Prue puked up her favorite treat; it was hardly the peaceful go-to sleep process we envisioned.
Without going much into the details of the procedure, I could only say that it did not go well. After four doses of euthanasia solution, our vet was still uncertain about Prue’s status. While most pets’ euthanasia lasted five to ten minutes, the vet is uncertain about Prue’s state of life after more than twenty minutes. We felt there was a sense of panic in the vet’s eyes. We then rushed Prue’s lifeless body to the clinic for additional shots and better equipment. Fortunately, her clinic was only a five-minute away. With the help of an ultrasound machine, the vet found faint heartbeats on Prue. Brian and I broke down in tears. We were proud of Prue’s fighting spirit and willingness to live on one hand. But we were also saddened by her continued suffering. We could only whisper to Prue, telling her to let go and how much we loved her.
After a final shot straight into her heart, the vet confirmed that Prue was gone. The entire euthanasia lasted about forty minutes and was full of distress. Even though we knew she was supposed to be unconscious throughout the entire procedure, we couldn’t help wondering whether she might feel the agony. Would the pain be so great that it somehow woke her from anesthesia? Should we have done the procedure in the clinic, to begin with? The ultimate question we asked ourselves is whether we actually provided the “best” death we could for our dear Prue. We feel we failed her as parents; it was a terrible feeling that might stay with us for a long time.
After the death announcement, we stayed with Prue’s body for a few minutes. We can’t shake this unnerving feeling that she might still be alive. We had to tell ourselves that her paws felt cold and she was really gone. We held her close and said our farewell. We apologized for the agony of her death. But more importantly, we thanked her for being a kind and loyal companion for the past 12+ years. Besides deep sadness, our heart was filled with gratitude for Prue. She genuinely brought out the best of us.
“Because it can’t be all sorrow, can it? I’ve always been alone so I don’t feel the lack. It’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve never experienced loss because I’ve never had a loved one to lose. What is grief, if not love persevering?”
Processing the loss of a pet felt very different from that of a human. The inability to verbalize our feelings toward Prue made the loss so unbearable. We hoped Prue felt that she was loved until the very end and enjoyed her life with us. In the end, our grief is a manifestation of love. Over time, we will forget this painful day. Instead, we will only remember all the good memories we shared. Farewell, our dear Prue. We were very privileged to have you in our life. If there is an afterlife, we hope we will see you again.
