Goodbye Schnookies

Yesterday at around 2:30pm CST, Schnookies entered kitty heaven. This entire ordeal has been playing out for over a year now... 13 months, to be exact. It began when Schnookies attacked Megan's roommate Kimberly quite savagely, and then turned on me when I stepped in to end the fight. By the time that hullabaloo was over, both Kimberly and I were bleeding and bruised. I have no idea what triggered the attack, because Schnookies has always been an extremely loving cat, and she was always so friendly to strangers. As a matter of fact, I was constantly worried that one day I may forget the door open for a little too long and she'd get kidnapped by someone who was drawn to her friendliness. So needless to say, this erratic behavior caught me way off guard. It turned out to be one of many such episodes. She was turning even on people she had known and loved, like Adam. When my roommate Ben moved in, I had to confine Schnookies to my bedroom for the two months he was here, and once in a while I tried to let her out, but she always went to attack him. She would scream and flail her long-clawed arms so hard that even I was afraid of her.

After Ben left I resolved not to get another roommate because I didn't want to have to confine Schnookies to my room. It made me sad to have her living in there, all day, by herself. So for about a year I was paying 450 dollars extra per month, just so Schnookies could be free. But soon enough this became a problem and I finally decided to get a new roomie and put Schnookies back into the room for the long term. I put up an ad in a craigslist forum asking for help from anyone who may be familiar with feline behavior, and I got some very good feedback. What Schnookies seemed to be suffering from is called Feline Redirected Aggression. This is a rare psychological illness that occurs when a cat becomes aware of another cat close by, say the neighbor's cat that Schnookies liked to look at from a chair by the back door, and is unable to defend her territory from this cat that she can see but can't interact with. So she redirects her aggression to humans.

I went ahead and booked a ticket to Hawaii a few months ago, knowing that Megan would be able to handle Schnookies just fine while I was gone. This would be my first vacation in about 15 months. Megan is the only person Schnookies doesn't seem to mind, maybe because she took care of her as a kitten for two weeks that I was gone. Anyway, when Jenny arrived, I decided after a couple weeks to let Schnookies out and see how she handled the new person. To my surprise, Schnookies was just fine with her. No problems at all. Perhaps she had gotten used to her smell and the sound of her around after two weeks of being here. So Jenny agreed to take care of her while I was gone. Problem solved, I thought. Fast forward to Wednesday when I got a call while working on my lab meeting presentation. Jenny is screaming outside the apartment, where she is standing bleeding with her friend Christina. Schnookies has gone crazy again. So, no more chance of Jenny taking care of her while I'm gone.

I figured euthanasia was unavoidable at this point. I could not bear to leave her alone in my room for 10 days, only broken by once-daily visits form Megan to change her litter and food. That would drive anyone insane, especially a cat that loves open spaces. Worse yet would be to put her in a shelter; she would never be adopted by anyone and would live the rest of her life in a cage. So I made the appointment for Saturday at 2.

I felt this overwhelming sense of guilt from Wednesday night straight through to now, as I type this the day after. The problem with having to do this was that Schnookies LOVED me, and she was very loyal to me. As a matter of fact, she was almost obsessed with me. She always had to have me within sight. If I showered, she wanted the door open. As I cooked, she would sit on the stairs or just outside the kitchen to watch. When I watched TV, she would be nearby, if not on my feet. Every evening when I came home, she would either be by the window waiting, or come rushing to the door as soon as I opened it. We peacefully coexisted in my room for all the time she had to spend in here. When I called her name, she would respond with a meow. And I had trained her not to use her claws when she played with me because they would scratch me. She knew very well how far she could go with her playing. With the exception of her rare outbursts, she never harmed me. And so my sense of having betrayed her has been great and at times overwhelming. But when all is said and done, it is something I had to do. I can support an entire family in Trinidad for $450 a month. To think I threw that away for so long just because my cat was acting crazy may seem equally crazy to the casual observer. In the end, I did what was best for Schnookies and for me. And unfortunately, I have to live with the consequences. Included in those consequences are these extremely guilty feelings that perhaps, on some level, I murdered a loving, loyal pet so that I could take a vacation. I know that this is not true and that eventually, this had to happen, but for now the idea still haunts me a bit. Perhaps it would be worse to not care at all; with that thought, I console myself.

My mind still hasn't gotten used to the idea that she is no longer with me. Every time I open a cupboard or closet, I close it thinking, "Schnookies will jump in here and ruin everything if I don't close this." Each time I enter my apartment, I look for her running to greet me. It makes me sad all over again when I realize that she's not here to do any of those things. Time will heal that wound, I hope.

The folks at the Humane Society of Missouri - where I took her for the procedure - were nothing short of AMAZING. When I walked in, they took my information and directed me to a room. Megan accompanied me as my driver and shoulder to lean on. We walked in and they asked if I'd like to deal with the payment before or after, and when I chose before, a gentleman came and took my credit card and then brought the bill for me to sign. All the while, they wore sombre, but compassionate, faces. He offered his sympathies for my situation.

Next, the vet and an assistant came in and told me what to expect. I signed the euthanasia consent form and they took Schnookies away. They explained they were going to administer a sedative, and then attach a catheter to her arm for the euthanasia drugs. They told me they would bring her back in about 15 minutes and then I could have "five minutes or five hours" with her if I wished. They said to take all the time I needed. I was, needless to say, crying throughout the whole ordeal. They gave me tissues and kind words.

When they returned with her, she was very sleepy and she was wrapped in a towel, with just her little head and front paws sticking out. They warned me ahead of time that upon death, some animals undergo a muscle movement that causes their legs to stretch out as if they are taking a last breath. They asked if I could handle that sight and I said yes. However, the towel was going to prevent most of that from being visible. She looked very peaceful and at ease. I scratched her head and she purred. The vet told me she gave just enough drugs to calm her, but she could still hear me and see me. So I told her that I loved her and then gave the okay to administer the drugs. Within 30 seconds, the vet checked her heart beat and said very peacefully, "she's gone." And with that, my Schnookies had breathed her last. As I cried, the vet asked if I would like a paw print of hers, and I said sure. She smiled and said she'd be sure to mail me one. Above the call of duty, I thought and turned around to get my coat. What I hadn't noticed when the vet brought Schnookies back in was that, as my back was turned and my mind focused elsewhere, the assistant had placed a small stuffed animal and a letter on the chair. So when I was ready to leave, I was greeted by this soft grey kitty with a pink nose, sitting on an envelope. I asked if it was for me and she smiled and said yes, and something along the lines of, "we know this is hard for you and wanted to do whatever it took to make it easier."

Beamer rescued Schnookies from a box of kittens out in someones yard way out in the county. He brought her to me and she enjoyed two full years of love and good company - more than what her siblings likely could ever dream of. So altogether I am grateful for the time I had with her and know that there was no other way around this end. She went peacefully, purring as I scratched her head and her little ears. If there is such a thing as pet forgiveness, I have absolutely no doubt that she will forgive me for what I had to do yesterday. I hope that I will never have to go through such an ordeal again.