The Last Kiss

This story contains sensitive content: Death of an Animal.

The Last Kiss

It had been what seemed the longest drive of my life. I pulled up to the inconspicuous tan brick building. The sun was shining, a crisp breeze blew with the last remaining hints of Jack Frost lingering as winter came to an end.  Snow drops lined the low flower beds. Why did the day’s feel have to juxtapose with the reality of it required. Why on Valentine’s Day of all days, when the heart is meant to feel elation and joy, did mine have to inevitably break? 

With a deep breath, I opened my car door and stepped out into the sun which made me feel sick. I couldn’t enjoy it. How could I when the love of my life was in the back seat, and I knew this would be our last car ride together? Neko, to the rest of the world, was certainly just like any other cat. She was a regular orange and white Tabby. She was ordinary and typical of every other cat out there. Ate, slept, and had mood swings like them all.  But, to me she was the best-est of friends, the cuddle buddy extraordinaire, and the comforter of my tears. People would come and go over the years, but she was always at my side, my one true love, my little soulmate and world. The door handle of the back seat seemed a weight too heavy to bare. Yet, I, somehow, mustered the strength to open it. 

Unbuckling the seatbelt around the carrier was the last anchor of my delusion that this wasn’t the end but my visit to the Craymour Veterinary Clinic had begun with that click of the latch and the swish of the belt pulling me to the present. A Pressure formed in my chest and my heartbeat against it nearly suffocating me. I nearly lost any composure I had left when I heared the soft meow call to me from within the sullen box. It wasn’t too unlike the day I brought her home. A tiny ball of Orange, she come from the next city over, falling out of a shipment of pipes at my worksite and straight into my heart. Cold, scared and alone she found her way to me, my little angel. Though today, I would not be sending her off in the same manner. This bolstered my courage as I lifted the carrier from the car and into the open air. 

As I turned to take the short walk from my car, I paused for an excited young child who carried her puppy like a ragdoll out the front door of the vet’s office. She giggled as it squirmed in her arms. Her Mother attempted to aid her in rustling the back legs up and into her daughter’s hands, but it seemed an arduous struggle between puppy and childhood energy.  This reminded me of when Neko was a kitten, and would play inexhaustibly, running here and there, pouncing up and down and living truly and completely. Her fervour for life and all its possibilities had inspired my own. I hoped that the mother and small child found the same inspiration in that wiggly puppy as they got into their bright red sedan. I clung to Neko’s carrier as I took the last few steps to the office door. It seemed too light in the moment, too easy to open. I somehow felt it should have been locked. I wanted an excuse to turn away so this wasn’t the last time I would carry Neko. 

I could hear her soft purr as I entered. I wished and pretended with all my soul it was out of happiness. But the sight of another sick patient waiting in the lobby reminded me that pain also caused a cat to purr. She had been there through my pain, always. When I would cry, she was next to me, pressing her fluffy head into me, raising her paws to my shoulder to hug me, and purring to comfort me. Now, I was with her during her time of pain. Cancer had come too soon. She was only 12. She should have had more time. She deserved more time. No, this was about me. I am selfish and ungrateful for what time I had been given. I wanted more time.  ‘The doctor will be ready for you in a minute Ms. Halfax,’ the receptionist said, smiling as she took my information. Father Time was not going to grant my wants.

 I sat down placing the carrier gently on my lap as I stared blankly at the decorations. So many hearts and so much love expressed in the room. I thought of Neko’s favourite toy, a plush lizard with hearts down it’s back. It was still in the middle of the floor of the living room from the last time Neko felt well enough to play with it.  What would my home be like without her? Would love still be the decoration hung in the air or would the absence of Neko mean the absence of love? 

 I cannot remember a time sitting at home that Neko was not on my lap, next to me, or on my shoulder. I was always surrounded by her warmth. Reaching into the carrier, I stroked her and imagined a different end to the story I was facing. If I closed my eyes this could just be another day at home. If I just tuned out the noise of whining dogs and angrily meowing cats, this could be just the two of us in our favourite chair.  If I could just stop my hand from trembling, this moment would not be tainted with the sadness of a last. 

‘Neko?’ The nurse called from the examining room door.  I stood, present in space but not in mind. How many times had that name left my lips? Neko. I would call it in happiness, I would call it in concern and sometimes in frustration. I always had a reason to call her name. ‘I love you Neko.’ ‘Neko, get off the counter!’ ‘Neko, wanna treat?’ ‘Neko, where are you?’ But now, now we were here in the exam room, and I had no reason to call out to her. The nurse waved me to place Neko on the table. I did. Gingerly, I pulled her from the carrier.  Her fur was a poor sight to behold. I had tried to brush her in these last months as much as possible because she just wasn’t able to keep up with it herself. My chest compressed again, and the pounding of my heart intensified. Regardless of her messy coat, she was my everything. Tears clouded my eyes and made the world around me darker like the last light of sunset on a rainy day.  

‘I’m going to have a look at her now. Just get her weight and temperature before the doctor comes to brief you and take her back.’  Horror filled me. ‘Take her back?’  The nurse reiterated the doctor would explain further. She began her routine and cold examination of probably the twentieth cat she had seen today. Neko was just a name and number on an exam chart to her, not like to me.  She finished silently and exited only speaking to say the doctor would be here shortly. I leaned over Neko, holding her the same way I always had. Normally, she would have hated being picked up and held. That did not mean she was not affectionate. One had only to meet her at her level and they would find her exceptionally loving. So, I held her at her level. 

I listened to her slow and raspy breath. I felt the warmth radiate off her. I calmed at the sound of her purr. ‘I will always love you my sweet baby girl. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You know that?’ She responded to my whispers with a faint and strained, ‘Ra. Rah.’ A tear of mine fell, wetting her nose. It looked as though it had come from her own eye, like a mark of our shared sadness and pain in the moment. I remained in this position until the creaking of the back door opened again, and the vet came in. Standing and wiping my face, I greeted him with nothing more than a cold and distant stare, one only death itself could understand in its completeness. He was the reaper and he did understand. 

He, as the nurse had done before poked and prodded at Neko before beginning his description of what was to come. I listened; I think I listened. All I could hear was Neko’s soft breathing and feel her warmth as I rested my hand on her shoulder gently massaging her with my thumb.  It wasn’t until he reached over to pick her up and take her away that the spell her purring had put me under broke. No. ‘No’, I said, not in anger but it was enough to make him jump back. ‘I’m not leaving her. She’s not leaving my sight nor I hers.’  

‘That is not a problem. We will take care of everything right here.’ He turned to go out the back door again. 

‘I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry.’ I stroked her head, starting at the brim of her nose. ‘I know you don’t want to leave me either.’ I continued to run my hand down her neck and onto her back.  ‘That’s why you are holding on so hard.’ With one long sweep, I reached her back legs. ‘So, we aren’t going to think of this as good-bye.’ Her long once-expressive tail was the final stretch before I began the stroke again from the top of her head. ‘You’re just going to fall asleep in my arms. I promise, I won’t let go.’ 

Tears led to gags and convulsions of ragged breathing. The floor had turned to quicksand, and I struggled not to sink beneath her. When the nurse and doctor finally came back in, they brought sanitary towels and other manner of medical equipment. The nurse reached for Neko to lift her, but I couldn’t bear it. Stopping her, I picked Neko up and held her like a baby in my arms, perfectly, so I could see her eyes and she could see mine. She did not fight me. We, simply and lovingly, looked deeply into each other’s eyes; there were no secrets between our souls.  The nurse began to prattle that it was best if I sat her on the table so that my clothes weren’t soiled, but I only responded with a glance.  It was the only split second in those final moments that my eyes left Nekos’ and they were the last words that the nurse uttered in the room.

 ‘Neko, are you warm and cosy? It’s time to go night-night.’ My lips whispered gently but my soul screamed out. It pleaded with Father Time to make it stop, to rewind, to let me have more time; I was unanswered. All I could do was sing to her in the seconds we had left. I sang what I always had to comfort her when leaving for work or at bedtime before sleep. 

‘If I had words to make a day for you, I’d sing you a morning golden and new. I would make this day last for all time, sing you a night deep in moonshine.’

 The vet reached over and nodded which prompted me to stop my song. All her life, from beginning to now, had come down to this final moment, this final kiss which I placed on top her tiny head as the doctor gave her the injection to help her sleep. Our last kiss.