The day started off great. Work was super busy and crazy, I spent the day playing catch-up from being off on Friday. The snow arrived in full force, but my drive to work, or home, was not nearly as bad as I expected. I arrived home in an odd mood. I just felt off, like something was wrong, but just couldn't put my finger on it. I threw in a load of laundry, and went about my business...
Christian dropped the girls off and made a trip to the store with his mom. Olivia was running around like mad woman, Amelia was sitting in her chair in the kitchen with me, I did the dishes and cleaned up the disaster that was the kitchen. I started cooking dinner, and baking some sweet potatoes for my first shot at baby food. Christian arrived home just as dinner was ready, so he and Olivia started eating, while I pureed Amelia's potatoes and successfully completed my first batch of baby food (and, it was delicious!). I made my plate and joined the others for dinner.
We spent a little time playing, but it was already getting pretty late, so Christian started getting baths ready, while I got the girls undressed. I finally remembered that I was doing laundry, and ran downstairs quickly to switch loads. I turned on the basement light and saw Frank laying right inside the door. As I usually do, I yelled out "Hey Frank" as I walked by, only to be met with no response. This was definitely NOT normal, I always get a reaction out of my animals. I got closer, and realized Frank was not moving, and was not responsive at all, and I immediately thought the worst.
I yelled up to Christian, exclaiming that something was wrong with Frank. He ran down and picked Frank up. At this point, Frank did move slightly and let out the most painful meow I've ever heard. I started crying, and we just knew something was very wrong. We searched the basement to see if there were any signs of him being sick, and found nothing. We placed him on top of the washing machine, and he was just limp...he would not move, stand, sit. Nothing. Christian could feel something bulging from his stomache, and just looked at me with a blank stare and said, "This does not look good".
We left Frank in the laundry room, Christian put the girls in their baths, and I googled emergency animal clinics in our area. I came upon one, that didn't have the best reviews, but it was the only one close by. We were at a loss, and really didn't know what to do at this point. So, of coures we did what most people would do...I called mom. She offered to come down and sit with the girls while we took Frank in, because I could not face that, or the decisions that may come of it, by myself. So, Christian put Olivia to bed, took the dog out and did his usual nightly chores, while I fed Amelia and put her down.
My mom arrived just as I got Amelia to sleep, Christian pickedup Frank, wrapped him in a blanket, and we were on our way. As we took off in the car, the No Doubt sing, "Don't Speak" came on. I felt like it was an omen, and in that moment, I knew things were not going to go well. As we walked in the door, the receptionist literally jumped up, and ran over to us. She quickly took our information, ran over some basics and ran Frank into the back room. She came out and said the doctors wanted to take blood and do a bunch of tests, and it was all very overwhelming. We said we really needed to talk to the doctor.
We sat in the cold, dark exam room waiting for the doctor, and I just felt lost. The doctor came in, and very matter of factly stated that Frank was dying. He has a massive urinary infection, technically speaking, he had Feline Idiopathic Cystitis, and his bladder was litterally going to explode at any time. She said the only thing they could do was place a cathedar, and monitor him for a few days...we were looking at $1,500 minimum, and no guarantee that it would work. Looking at her face, through my tear filled eyes, I could tell she did not have much hope for him. She looked at us and said, "I know this is hard, but you really only have about a minute to decide what you want to do, or Frank is going to make that decision for you".
I broke down beyond belief at this point, and we knew what we had to do. He was suffering enough, and we needed to let him go. She brought him in so we could say our final goodbye's. He was wrapped in heating pads because his body temp was already so low, that it wasn't registering. His heartrate was barely audible at this point, and he was leaving us. We spent a few minutes with him, and I held him as they put him to sleep.
Leaving him there, in the cold, dark room, was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. The thought that we will never see him, never hold him, never hear that whiny little meow of his, or watch him battle Chuy again, is beyond devestating to me. I would not with this process, this experience, on my worst enemy. I found Frank in the basement around 8:20, and we were home from putting him down by 10:30. That was the longest, most torturous 2 hours I have ever experienced.
Frank came to us as a tiny, runt of his litter, bull legged little kitten, with a pipe cleaner tail and the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen in my life. We had 3 wonderful years with him, but his life was cut far too short, and my heart is truly broken.
Frank, simply stated, I love you, and I will always miss you.



















