Tuesday
Apr272010
Rest In Peace Sweet Meo
Tuesday, April 27, 2010 at 9:50PM 
I lost my eldest Sphynx Meo today.
As I opened a can of food for dinner, only Oberon came running. Meo, usually prompt in an unusually prescient way for dinner time, was not in the kitchen. As I walked toward the bedroom, there he was, legs splayed beneath him with a glazed expression.
This wasn't supposed to happen yet.
He had a serious heart condition. He was on medication. His pulse was getting closer to a normal range. He was roughhousing with Oberon yesterday. Earlier this afternoon he was lying by my side while we watched yet another episode of "The Golden Girls." Perhaps for the thousandth time together.
I knew it was the end for him.
I moved him to the kitchen to see if the food would entice him to get up. It didn't. He let out a shriek and became incontinent on the floor. I phoned the vet. They directed me to the emergency room, Chicago Veterinary Emergency Services at 3123 N. Clybourn.
Packing his meds, a blanket in his carrier, I lifted his slack body into the carrying case and ran out for a cab. Fuck you Cubs traffic, it took a while to get to the ER. He was panting and let out the occasional yowl. I tried to be hopeful, but I knew, deep down inside that it was his time.
Part of me was praying they could do something magical at the ER. Maybe they could give him a shot of something-or-other that would make him leap up and nuzzle my chin. But the little tiny bit of medical training I've had since the beginning of the year knew better. His heart was in severe failure per his diagnosis. It was only a matter of time.
And it was time.
Upon arriving, the staff at Blum (his normal vet) had already phoned his chart over. The ER staff took him straight to what looked like a baby incubator. They let me watch him in the oxygen chamber, trying to sit up, gasping for air. It hurt. I couldn't watch him suffer. I went back into the examination room to see if Mom was there yet.
She arrived and I kind of lost it. The vet came in an suggested they could try and get an IV after he had some more oxygen. Then perhaps they could try some meds because he hadn't had his evening doses.
There I sat, my head resting on Mom's warm chest, softly sobbing. In my head I told myself 'If they want to stick a tube down his throat, let him go. If he stops breathing, let him go.'
The doctor came back in and said he'd stopped breathing and they'd like to intubate. I said no thank you, please let him go.
They brought him back into the examination room as he had just passed. There he was, a creature, a living being I'd loved so hard for so many years, absent of life. He was laying on his side exactly the way we'd wake up each morning. Except he wasn't looking at me. He wasn't there.
He was gone.
I kissed him. I told him I loved him. Mom and I petted him for a long while. His ears were so velvety soft. He was still warm. There I was, loving this little creature who had been my confidant, my partner in crime, and a source of unconditional love for so many years.
How would I get by without him? And how would Oberon get by? Obie hadn't known a world without Meo.
They brought me a clay paw print which I have to bake as a keepsake. The staff was amazingly kind and gentle. They let us have as much time as we wanted with him.
We made arrangements for the cremation. I'm having his ashes sent to me.
I'm going to miss you Meo. I'm going to miss you a lot. Rest in peace.
Reader Comments (6)
Oh, Peter --
I am so, so sorry for your loss. Rest in peace, dear Meo.
I'm am so sorry for your loss, Peter. So, so sorry. xoxo
These small creatures come into our lives and draw as much love as they give. I'm sending good energy and thoughts to you while you grieve.
This blog made me cry, I loved the little guy too! Rest in peace, Meo!
(PS Now he has his thumbs and can order pizzas and open tuna cans on his own!)
Aww, sorry for your loss Peter! I hope you are feeling better.
I never met Meo, but I can see how much love he had when he was here... so sorry for your loss.