The Cat I Left Behind

Guilt is a strange thing, most of the time I have no complaints about it at all. When I feel guilty about doing something wrong and it’s a small thing, like sneaking my dog into a museum in his little bag, I feel twinges of guilt, they pass and I get on with my day. But when I say something hurtful, am inconsiderate or just plain wrong; I usually have the sense to realize it or I wait until it is brought to my attention. The initial angst the guilty produces is so disruptive to my existence that I will go to almost any length to be rid of it. In these cases where my ego is one the line, when it feels uncomfortable to admit I wrong, I try very earnestly to bite the bullet, apologize, do the right thing and make amends. I am now however, dealing with guilt of the highest degree. When I left Seattle, five and a half months ago, my sister and I planned to have her move into the house I was living in. She was kind enough to keep my elderly cat in his environment in addition to her 2 kittens and her little dog. That plan fell through and she is still in her considerably smaller apartment with three cats and a dog. My old cat was thrust into living in much smaller quarters while her animals had to deal with a really grouchy older cat.

For the past 13 years I have loved Bak-Gai (his name means “white son” in Cantonese). I love him still and really think about him daily. He is at least 15 years old, possible 16 or 17, as I was living in a hotel for two months I did not bring him along like I did the dog.

This lovely creature is the apple of my eye. 30% of all my photographs over the past 13 years have been of this cat. He is the most gentle, the most loving animal I have ever met. Never did he bear a grudge against me for going on vacation, for bringing home 2 puppies that annoyed him and ate his food, and never has he bitten or scratched me even whilst I brushed his teeth, trimmed his nails, or gave him a bath. When my sister told me he was attacking her kittens and not eating well, I knew he was in emotional trouble. My stomach tied itself in a knot. I have tried in vain to find someone in Seattle who is willing to care for him until the end of his life, since sending him to Italy on a plane might be too detrimental. No luck.

Last week my sister told me once again he was going downhill, not eating as well and this time pulling the hair from his front paws. I can’t imagine the pain he must be going thorough. I appreciate immensely the help my sister has provided in taking care of him these past months. Now I am struggling with what to do? Should I send for him and risk his health? Should my sister just keep him, even though he is stressed out and so are her animals? He has a bit of a periodontal problem and he getting a bit worse every month. Other than that he’s just old. I can’t fathom putting him down yet? I am at a loss as to what to do and the guilt is devastating me. I promised to take care of him for the rest of his life. I feel so guilty for not keeping my promise. He was supposed to live out his last years in the house he spent the past 7 years in; looking out our big picture window and sleeping on the couch. I feel like such a bad person.