"Please don't call me for awhile," said the veterinarian as she left with Thelma's body cradled in her arms.I don't yet have the energy to clean up the bathroom where Thelma had to be sequestered for the night. Nor do I have the energy to put away extra kitty bowls. All I want to do is write and eat chocolate. I know Thelma would meow "amen" to that.
In the late 1990s, Thelma was featured in an article about pets because of her remarkable paws-on healing ministry. No joke, during flare-ups of my fibromyalgia, she'd gently knead my trapezius muscles. She'd drape herself across my chest if I'd been crying.
Thelma hurled up bloody bile the evening Itty Bit died nearly two months ago and was tested the next week. Although there were treatment options, Thelma was not keen on any of them. During a consult with animal whisperer, Dawn Allen, Thelma could not have been more clear about her end-of-life preferences. Louise could not have been more clear about wanting more wet food on the menu.
So I bought wet food for Louise and let Thelma be Thelma, which she promptly proved to be by slaughtering her first, only, and last chipmunk
of the summer season and leaving the carcass on the deck for me to admire. Her health declined rapidly after her last stand as a Warrior TabbyToday, we said our goodbyes for this lifetime. Since Thelma was on my desk, the veterinarian administered sedation there. I don't know about Thelma, but both the vet and I noticed she was curled up over a copy of the Julian of Norwich icon created by Robert Lentz.
