The Wheeze, Euphemistically

Euphemism:  The use of a word or phrase to replace another with one that is considered less offensive, blunt, or vulgar than the word or phrase that it replaces.  (Ed. Note: E.g., replacing the phrase "eat shit" with "I'm sorry but I'm not going to be able to do that.")

People form incredible bonds with their animals.  Lots of people seem to love their animals more than they love their humans.  I get this - animals are incredible and people are idiots.  People are the worst.  The thought of an animal dying is so distressing to me that I've been a lazy man's vegetarian for many years.  Vegetarian in that I don't often consume the flesh of a once living animal - lazy because I do eat meat from time to time.  What can I tell you - I'm ethical but flawed, a common argument to an unethical person trying to pass himself off as ethical.

I enjoyed the years we had The Wheeze but I learned more from the decline and death of that animal than I did from all the preceding years, as full of life as they were.  It was sad and it was poignant watching her fade into the black, into nothingness, into something else.  She wanted to go before we were ready to let her go - common in pet owners.  I hope that we didn't make her suffer unduly in our selfishness.  

Ed. Note:  I like the euphemisms people use to describe death.  "To Go" is particularly ridiculous.  The cat isn't going anywhere.  The location of the dead cat is the definition of a fixed position.  There is no locomotion involved, now or in the future, despite the huge body of locomotion work that occurred in the past.  I'm going to add one of my favorite death euphemisms because - as you can see - this is a topic that I could pursue right up to the Gates of Insanity or Death.  Here it is: "To assume room temperature."

You can be on your Death Bed or you can be on your Regular Bed.  If I die of a lingering illness and someone asks, in hushed tones, if I'm on my Death Bed, I hope the response is cheery: "No.  He's on his Regular Bed."  I have shopped for mattresses and I have yet to see "Death" featured in any of the advertising circulars.

"This weekend only!  Big President's Day discounts!!  Death Beds at 20! 30!! even 40% off!!!"

Part of the problem for an old animal was that we were in a transitional state of great flux - there was tremendous fluxing going on - during her last year.  She had to endure being stuffed into a cat carrier as we made a two day, eighteen hour trip to and from our vacation stay in - you got it - Vacation City.  I think this was stressful as hell on an old cat, as was adapting to new digs when we moved from vacation rental to hotel to vacation rental, and back again.  Then we stuffed her back in one more time for the final trip to our new home.  She lasted about a month here.  I wish it could have been longer because the sun shines, shines, shines, heaven for a cat who would have been staggering in ecstasy from one patch of heat to the next.

An indication of what was to come happened one night not long after we moved into our condo in The New City.  The cat had spent several stressful hours stuffed in a cat carrier stuffed under a seat stuffed into an airplane fuselage.  I have no idea what she made of all the noise and jolting around, the change in air pressure.  How does that affect a cat's ears?  Did she know to swallow or suck on a Tic Tac?  I had to take her out of her cat carrier to pass through airport security.  She seemed pretty calm while we made the transit - not a peep - but then again cats are famous for their poker faces.  She did not set off the metal detector.  She walked back into the carrier without prompting.  She hated to be embarrassed - I bet she was trying to convince everyone around her that she was a frequent flyer, used to first class and priority lounges.

Suddenly and without warning, The Wheeze jumped up and settled in at the foot of the bed.  This was beyond weird.  This was a cat that, if you picked her up and put her on the bed and held her down, would bolt the second the pressure was relieved.  Beginning that night and forevermore she made the move onto the bed.  We had to fix a sort of access ramp so that she could scramble up, having lost the ability to make the big jump on her own.  And once she settled in she settled in - you couldn't dislodge her from whatever position she assumed at the foot of the bed.  It was like having an iron anvil down there - I could kick and push but she wouldn't budge an inch, despite a stream of grumbling and huffing in what must have passed for feline cursing.