With you passing on Good Friday and all, I was hoping for a miraculous resurrection on Easter Sunday, but it didn't happen. I sort of knew it wouldn't, but it still didn't stop me from going downstairs and opening your box one last time to check and see if you had come back to life. But there were no muffled cries like I had hoped...no movement coming from within your casket. I even called out your name, but alas, nothing. Silly, I know, but I don't care... maybe if I hadn't had a shred of doubt that God would do it...well, who knows. Faith is a powerful thing, but so few of us have the kind required for the miraculous. I suppose you are better off in the lap of Jesus until I can meet up with you and the others. And I'm sure my catified mansion in Heaven is being put to good use. That thought does give me comfort, but it doesn't stop the tears from rolling down my face. I love you so much, my sweet little Mae Mae.
Hard to think it's already been a week today since the doctor told me the bad news. I brought you back in that day still hoping you just needed some medicine and you'd get better. As we waited to hear your test results, I watched you make tiny little kitty biscuits inside your pet carrier…
I wasn't prepared to say good bye. I wasn't ready to let you go right then and there and I don't think you were ready, either. We all needed a little time even though I knew it was running out fast. I'm glad we brought you home for one last night. We sandwiched you all night long, never leaving your side. Daddy says you were looking right at him as if to say, "Thank you." But I want to say thank you, Mae. Thank you for touching my heart, even though it's broken right now.
Oh, Mae...what can I say? I'm just so, so sorry you had to go through that. And I can't help but feel it's all my fault. I didn't know Petey had FeLV, but I still kick myself for not investigating further. Instead, I chose to trust what Dr. Mac said. I messed up. I had showed him the paper given to me with all of Petey's test results from the previous veterinarian because I couldn't read their handwriting; I couldn't decipher whether it was a positive or a negative for FeLV. But I should have assumed it was positive because I knew Brutus had had it and therefor should have assumed Petey had it as well. But Dr. Mac said what I desperately wanted to hear..."NEGATIVE." And I had already let Petey around you by then, thinking he only had FIV, a far less contagious disease.
The woman who had handled everything concerning Petey told me he was only positive for FIV. So, to then hear my own vet say the very same thing was all I needed to hear (or I suppose, WANTED to hear?) I wish I could go back and make it all right. I should have listened to my gut and gone out of my way to contact the first vet, even though I had never dealt with them personally, in order to get the information directly from the horses mouth... but I didn't and now you are gone. I chose to ignore my gut and instead trust these people whom I thought had all the right answers and, as a result, you had to pay for it with your life.
My heart is torn in two over this. On one hand Petey had a great time playing and loving on you. He got to have two great friends in you and Stuart before he passed.
But Petey's joy was to become your death sentence. I hated to see such a drastic change in you in only two weeks time; the last week especially. You were so weak. No more perky, upbeat Mae with the precious, raspy meow. Now it was a lethargic and sickly Mae and it breaks me every time I think about it. You should still be with me right now. You were still so young...only three. And I didn't even get to enjoy you for a full two years, only about twenty months total. I feel so robbed! I'm angry at the incompetence of those who led me astray and also at my own naivety. It's a lesson learned, but a lesson learned too late.
It seems like just yesterday that I was gaining your trust with food and soon discovering your three kittens you had been nursing outside. I'll never understand how anyone could neglect you like my neighbor did. I have no idea if you had those babies outside or not, but to see you nursing them under that tree says a lot. I'm so glad I was there to help you and your kittens. I just wish I had done better by you in regards to the FeLV exposure.
The beginning parts of my day are the hardest. No more little Mae Mae peeking around the bottom of the stairs to see if I'm coming with your breakfast.
No more Miss Mae cuddling up in my lap, burrowing your head into my hand.
No more Mae wrapped around my shoulders like a live kitty stole. You were such a little goober... You were such a joy!
This ache runs deep and I miss you terribly. It hurts to even write this; I've been putting it off but I have to say goodbye and focus on your other family fur-members. This letter will accompany your burial box which I covered with tons of pictures to show how loved you were, along with some of your toys. But I hate that I have to say goodbye.
Until we meet again, save a spot in that mansion for us.
With Love,
Mum