When I went to bed last night, I knew I had a vet appointment in the morning for Shukriya where this was going to be the topic.

Euthanasia.

After several months of trying to heal an infected area on one of his paw, tests had finally revealed why it was not healing. There was a cancerous mass beneath it, and his situation would continue to go downhill with endless infection if I did not intervene.

Unsurprisingly, I woke up pre-dawn and struggled to get back to sleep. In my head, I was negotiating and pleading with momentum to slow down and to hold back for a few days. I reasoned to myself, I could call the vet’s office at 8 and just cancel the appointment for the day, and re-set one for Thursday and buy some more time with him. However, when I went in to see the black cats in their room about 7:30 AM, he did not raise his head to greet me. And after several months of trying to fight that infection, I understood by his inaction that the vet’s suggested course was merciful and right.

I called the vet’s office, and instead, in restrained blubbering, asked the desk girl for them to be prepared to put a cat down.

And the rest of the ensuing twenty minutes or so was a blur of me laying down by him for a few, kissing his head, before I quickly dressed; carrying him in his cat bed downstairs and into the garage, where I put him loose in the cab of my truck. I had a mental flash to let Chayya say her goodbye to him, so I brought her out into the truck cab as well, bizarre as it was for her, where she could see him a last time- and then she was back in the house, the garage was closed, and I was driving with my right hand on him, rubbing his back, he sitting wide-eyed but quiet looking at buildings and poles and posts passing by, and then we were at the vet.

There was no need for a pet crate this time.

I lifted him in my arms and as a surge of tears came I carried him close to my chest up to the lobby door. I opened it. The receptionist nodded, and despite the two other pet owners present, she walked over to me and then led me around the corner to a room, where I sat with Shukriya and sobbed a few.

When Dr. Cal Engel came in the room, he gently apologized for the situation and also asked me how Shukriya’s weekend had been. And then he said we needed to go over a few items and fill out a form, and then I could have all the time I needed with my cat before we got started. I let him know we were ready- postponing this wouldn’t help either of us at all. He let me know how the procedure would work, and then asked if I had any questions.

“Can I be with him to the end?”

Of course.

After a little more comforting talk, it was time for him to go prep for the procedure, and I could fill out the paper work.

I kissed Shukriya a few times on his head before giving him to Cal. A tech came in with the paperwork. I filled it out alone. She came back and got it, and then took my credit card to process the fee so I wouldn’t have to after, which I appreciated.

In a short time, Dr. Engel came back in with Shukriya and a towel. The cat had a catheter in one of his legs where he would receive a lethal 2-dose punch that would release him from this world.

Dr. Engel gave me the towel to put on my lap, and when I had, he gave me Shukriya again. I held him, face towards me, and looked in his eyes and kissed his head again a few times.

And then he was placed on my lap, front end facing left towards Dr. Engel, laying on his belly.

He was not scared. He did not fear. He just let me rub his back and sat with me.

Are we ready?

Let me kiss him one more time.

“I love you, little boy.”

I kissed his forehead, and then nodded to Cal he could begin.

While I rubbed his back, one syringe was emptied into the catheter, and an anaestesia overtook his body, and I felt his head fall limp onto my left leg, as Dr. Engle said it would.

With the second one emptied into his body 15 seconds later, his life quickly slipped away from the mound on my legs.

Cal checked his vitals with a stethoscope.

“He’s gone.”

Just like that.

Goodbye, big boy.

I nodded as another wave of emotion overtook me, and the tears began falling again.

We quietly talked a bit more, and then Dr. Engel took the black cat in the towel out of the room, to the tech area, where he then clipped and bagged me some of his hair to bring home, a keepsake. Once he gave it to me and condolences were shared, I thanked him and then, eyes blurred by moisture, found my way out of the vet office into the morning sunlight.

—

When I selected Shukriya as a pet in late 2009 from the Animal Humane shelter here in town, I think I mostly picked him because he had been a tiny, loudly crying kitten among the others. My heart went out for him. I wanted him chiefly so that he could provide company for the other black cat I already had at home- a little girl named Chayya I had picked up half a year earlier. My logic for bringing him home was perhaps a little off at the time. I am not sure Chayya wanted a playmate at first.

And naive, my introduction of him to her was largely unmanaged- I brought tiny he into a room with her- and then watched her wallop him several times with antagonizing paw strikes. It was a rough introduction, and I rued my approach.

When I first got him, I was watching a fair amount of Bollywood films, and for whatever reason, I wanted a name for him that related to that subculture. After checking on a few terms I had heard that Shukriya meant “gratitude”. I was glad to have him as a pet, so I gave him that name, and every time I said it, he could give me an attitude check.

After he came home with me, we soon learned he also had a case of ringworm, and I learned about medicinal shampoos and pet quarantines, and wasn’t sure what that meant for him, and for us. We got through the recovery process, though, and after that he discovered his appetite.

In time, the tiny kitten that was Chayya’s punching bag grew and grew, ultimately doubling her in size and weight after a year and some. His personality, though, remained quiet and compliant. For as big as he became, he rarely meowed or mowed, and when he did, all he said was an airy mousy squeak.

And the two learned to like each other, and to like playing and being together.

Many times over the years, I would find them sharing a cat bed on a cool winter morning or evening.

Chayya and Shukriya began life with me in an apartment, and in time, as strictly indoor cats, they were glad to have a bigger place to explore after I moved into a house.

Shukriya at times frustrated me over the years with his delicate nature about foods and toilets. Those frustrations led me in certain seasons to give him less attention and freedoms than I usually did, which was my poor way of trying to deal with him at those times. And there is a certain amount of guilt I feel about how I was short-tempered or non-understanding towards him in those times, which bother me to this day. I didn’t know how to teach him how to not do things that some cats probably just do.

I will always feel bad for harsh things I said or showed him, as he was a sensitive and simple cat. He responded so easily to touch and affection, and in the middle years, I did not give him enough of those. I already told my sister I would confess this fault of mine to God and forgive myself, and strive to be a better person out of it, because, in reflection, those poor reactions to frustrating things he did highlighted shortcomings in me.

But he was always quick to warm up to me when I would rub his belly between his forelegs or around his neck. He let me know when he wanted affection, diving his head into my leg while he supported his 20 pounds on some skinny legs.

Shukriya was a big cat- in girth and in heart- and a very gentle behemoth that gave his sister good company for fifteen years. Sometimes he was a challenge to me, but he was always a good boy and a quiet comforter. He did like to eat, and he did like to wander around looking and smelling around the house. He was mellow, but a happy presence most of the time. He had beautiful eyes. His tail would quake and shake when he was exploring something new.

He was a pretty healthy cat up until the last half a year or so, besides being overweight and no doubt feeling some late-life arthritis

He was gentle to the end, and I hope he felt that he got lots of love towards the end of his life, which was not a wonderful experience for him.

Before the paw wound appeared earlier this year, which put him on medications and in paw wraps for two months before the end, he also dealt with a tooth infection which took him down for a few weeks. I tried to spend much more time with him in the last few months, comforting and loving on him, believing that might help his healing journey. Some of that attention was me recognizing my lack towards him in recent years, and some of that was driven by a wish to receive the same if I was in his place. And I also tried to take more pictures and movies of him as things appeared they would not improve for him.

Chayya, his sister, remains with me for the time being, and we will have to figure out how to go on without him- but oh, we will miss him. She is herself probably on her way out, as she deals with chronic kidney disease as an older cat as well.

There will be tears for a while, but he will remain beloved and mine in memory, the gentle giant, as life moves on.

Thank you for the years I was able to spend with you, sweet boy.

If I see you again in another time and place, I will shower your head with a million more kisses.