Argus
2002-February 1, 2019
I felt I could breathe again when Argus’ ashes were delivered home this afternoon. It was as though I had been holding my breath since he’d died two weeks ago. A friend asked how I had been doing and it’s hard to say. With Argus, the process of saying goodbye drew out for months. I’d been on an emotional rollercoaster of thinking I’d lose him and then he would somewhat recover in the ninth hour. But never fully. He still continued to waste away. It remained a mystery after all the tests, and we only guessed at a diagnosis.
One of the hardest parts was and still is, not knowing what caused all his infirmities. Even though he ate well, nothing seemed to keep him hydrated or maintain his weight. He had the appetite of two healthy cats but I have no clue where it went. He never regurgitated, and he wasn‘t regular. Days would sometimes pass before his bowels did their job, and I would be gleeful at the sight that his body seemed to be functioning. But, he remained a skin-draped skeleton. Seeing him become emaciated both frustrated me and was heartrending. As a researcher, I like to find answers and with his slow, painful decline, nothing came to light. We tried many approaches to no avail. Although the last two months broke my heart each day, we had our routine. His morning meds and bath, if he needed it, then his breakfast and a little time to snuggle before I’d rush to work. I’d come home at lunch and repeat the routine and then again after work. Evenings were the nicest; I’d give him his bath and then set him up in front of the fireplace. It seemed to be the best thing to calm him from the confused pacing. He used to howl the odd time he needed a bath. In the last few months of his life, he seemed to enjoy it. He had stopped grooming himself so the warmth of the water as I caressed his little frail body soothed him.
As far as I can remember, Argus had always been an unsettled wanderer. The only time I recall him in a peaceful state is when we lived at the lake or when he was outside with the deer. I’d often walk down and watch him in the distance sitting by the shore and gazing out into the water. When I moved to a little island on the coast, he’d sit by the ocean or snuggle up to the deer. He was an outdoor enthusiast! That all changed when Pig died. It’s hard to say, but I think the loss of Pig affected his feeling of stability. He no longer ventured outdoors after his death. Now, I like to think they are together. That Argus is free to roam again…