Midnight Crossed the Rainbow Bridge Yesterday

After receiving a "stay of euthanasia" twice, Midnight declined Saturday afternoon and kept going.

I contacted Dr. Beechler on Monday morning, and she only had one open time - and that was in thirty minutes.

In a very surreal, quick pivoting hour, the four of us jumped off work to send Midnight onto her final journey and then jumped back onto work an hour later.

The passage was slightly less smooth than we'd hoped, but in exchange Midnight received nearly three more weeks of life, where she saw the Christmas tree one more time (Timothy put it up early because she loves the lights), frolicked outside in the unseasonably warm weather (maybe God arranged that just for her), frolicked outside in the snow (maybe God arranged that, too, because Midnight also loved snow), ate a huge variety of wet cat food to tempt a capricious appetite (a wider variety in her last three weeks than her other eighteen years total), and reveled in many snuggles and pettings.

Midnight started her life in a horrible way with being dumped with her siblings in a carrier. But my oldest son Christopher just happened to stumbled upon that carrier and brought the kittens to his home.

Christopher found homes for all the kittens except Midnight, who was little and scared and skittish and full of ear mites and tapeworms (yes, tapeworms). So when she was sixteen weeks, he asked us to take her.

When we arrived at his Elwood home, she bolted, much the same way she bolted yesterday when she saw Dr. Beechler. But Christopher pulled her out from hiding and gave her to me. To help Midnight feel secure, I curled up in his recliner and just tightly held her. The sun was warm, and I was overtired from the route (I was always overtired in those days; we had so many short nights and long days) that we both nodded off.

I told the kids not to get attached, that we were proving hospice care. It took months to to get rid of the tapeworms, just long enough for Midnight to dash outside at one o'clock in the morning at nine months of age when the mercury registered eighteen below zero and get pregnant with the kittens Ron would later name Faith, Hope, and Charity.

But none of the kittens had worms, and by the time of their birth, neither did Midnight. And in due time, we sent all four for a mass spaying and neutering.

So Midnight had a rough start to her life, but that's not how she lived the rest of it. Sure, times got a little rocky during our homeless period after Ron got the dementia and lost his job (which led to the eventual loss of our home and years of juggling and scrambling).

But somehow we all managed to survive, and we met some wonderful people along the way that we'd never have met otherwise. And that includes Dr. Beechler yesterday.

For, again, Midnight had a rough start to her life, but she didn't go out that way.

Instead, she went out on soft blankets, held with reassuring hands, and surrounded by four people who loved her.