Other than in my early childhood years, which I really don’t remember very much, I never had any type of pet to keep me company. That all changed when Driggs came into my life though, who sadly took her final breath today before returning home to God.
I can honestly say I never thought I’d grow attached to any animal. In fact, I used to think it was silly when I saw someone crying over the loss of their own pet. But since Driggs became a part of my life, I truly can’t say that anymore because now I fully understand.
When I initially met her, it was during my first visit to my partner’s home back in 2012 and it was overly apparent she wasn’t all too happy with my presence. For what surmounted as mostly hisses and swipes at me, I knew she was more than grateful each time I left. But every month or so I continued to return, invading her protected surroundings, which only seemed to draw out more of those hisses and swipes at me. I fondly nicknamed her “Cujo Kitty” because of it, yet I still repeatedly tried to get in her good grace.
It didn’t go so well early on. In fact, I’d get so frustrated with her temper tantrums about me that I’d put her behind a closed bedroom door, except that only resulted in her meowing quite loudly until I let her out. I then tried to outright ignore her for a period of time, but oddly enough, that only seemed to drive her crazy as well, because when I did, she would sit a few feet away from me and just stare until I acknowledged her.
One day though, after more than a year and many hours of all this, she suddenly jumped up on me and began purring. Then, after carefully kneading her paws into my chest, she laid down and fell asleep. I’m sure on some level it was a long journey getting there with me, given how much anxiety she always seemed to have when I came around.
Three years later and after a year of living full time in the same house with her, the two of us had become inseparable. By that time, she had earned a new nickname from me, “Kitty Princess”, because of all the attention she constantly seemed to want. I found it comical how she’d usually follow me around the house more than not, except on those days when I’d run the vacuum, of which she detested profusely. But any time I’d open a can of her wet food, she’d come running from wherever she was, just like she would for all those times I’d yell at the top of my lungs either the word “TREATS!” or “YUM-YUMS!”
Unfortunately, an accidental mishap came during one of her quarterly grooming’s this past September where she sustained a wound on her underbelly and it was around that time that her energy began to change. Having to wear a cone around her head for several months thereafter, to prevent her from reinjuring herself, caused her great strife and depression. Yet somehow on all those days where I was filled with my own pain and anguish and praying to God in desperation to bring me relief, she’d seemingly forget about all of what she was going through and appear next to me, start purring, and meowing for my attention. After this happened enough times, I accepted the idea that God was answering my prayers through these unconditional acts of love from her.
But then came a small eye drain just before the Christmas holiday and just after her belly injury had finally healed. At first we thought it was something as simple as a foreign object stuck in her eye or possibly conjunctivitis, but after several trips to the vet and daily battles to give her some medication, her health and her mood only continued to decline. The right side of her face soon became overly swollen and every attempt she made to comfort herself by scratching it just led to some very loud yelps.
When the vet asked my partner and I to come in together after one of her prolonged visits there, we were told it wasn’t looking good and that she might have cancer. We still hoped for the best though as those biopsies were sent out and tried to act like everything was ok during the next week. As we continued giving her medication, I tried to deny what my spirit was already beginning to prepare me for. When that call came in about a week later with those test results, we were told it was definitely cancer and it was then I knew my time with Driggs was about to come to a close.
The next few days my partner and I went round and round with how long we should prolong her life given that she was still holding pretty close to 60 percent of her normal vitality. Because of how much I had allowed my heart to grow attached to her and because of how she was one of the few things still brining me joy in life, I wanted to be selfish and wait until she died on her own. But through my prayer, meditation, and a lot of tears, it was decided we’d give her one more week before we’d put her to sleep.
Sometimes I think this past week, which is the week I’m referring to, was the hardest I’ve had to endure in the entire past year of my life. Watching her eat less and less, not play much anymore, and pretty much sleep on my meditation cushion was so heart-wrenching for me. Every day I cried for not only what I continue to go through with my own health issues, but for what she was going through as well. I couldn’t understand why God would want to take the one thing away from me that was still giving me some ounce of joy in life. But as I continued to watch her suffer, I realized that maybe the work she was meant to do in my life was done and that maybe it was a sign that I’m that close to the end of what I’ve been going through.
Somehow I found comfort in those thoughts as I laid next to her last night, on her final evening with me, while Superbowl 50 was playing itself out. As I rested my head on her cushion in great sadness, I watched her do the same mere inches from my face. We then stared at each other for some time with tears pouring out of my eyes and I did the only thing I knew to do, which was to thank her and God for all the good she did for me. Because the one thing that has changed in my life since she became a part of it is how opened my heart has become to everyone and everything. And if you only knew how cold and frigid my heart once was not too long ago, then you too would understand why I was practicing gratitude in those intimate moments.
I didn’t sleep much on my final night with her, but she did give me one last time of jumping up on my chest and laying there for a short while, purring to her heart’s content. When we left the next morning for the vet with her wrapped up in her favorite blanket, she meowed in irritability just like she always did in a car. It honestly felt like nothing was different, which led to me attempting to convince myself and my partner one final time that maybe we were making the wrong choice. But as I watched her also show signs of her growing disease, that feeling quickly slipped away.
Twenty minutes later we found ourselves walking into the vet’s office, silent and despondent, all except for Driggs, who let out one big hiss after seeing a small dog trailing slowly behind us. I tried to smile because of it, but found it so hard to do so. All the assistants already knew why we were there when we approached the desk and we were quickly ushered into the one room I had always wondered what went on in there. Now I knew, as it was the transitional room from this life to the next for a pet.
I watched as Driggs began to seriously squirm in her blanket while we sat there and waited, tears already starting to pour out of both of our eyes. After all of the paperwork was signed, she was then taken into another room and given a sedation. When she returned to us in the room I wasn’t finding very comforting at all, she let out one last expression of detest before slowly falling into her place of rest. As I held her in my arms and said a prayer, I asked God to watch over her and help her understand. Then the tears came harder than I could ever imagine, maybe even harder than when either of my parents died. My heart really wasn’t opened that much back then, as much as it is now, even while I sit here and type these words.
By the time the vet gave her the final injection that would send her off, she was already fast asleep. I stared one final time into her eyes as I said my last goodbyes, never imagining letting a pet go could be so hard, especially with one who helped to transform my life so incredibly. I can only hope and pray now that she’s sitting comfortably in Christ’s lap, purring like she always did when on my own.
Driggs, Kitty Princess, I will love you forever. I thank you for all the gifts you gave both me and my partner. I know we will grieve you for some time to come and if God should somehow decide to have you watch over us, I hope you will occasionally make your presence known when you do. In the meantime, as I I continue to pray each day for my health to improve, I know I’ll be picturing you coming up right beside me, bringing me the comfort like you always did. I love you Driggs, you will always be remembered as my special little friend…
Peace, love, light, and joy,
Andrew Arthur Dawson