my little wonder

Lavie passed away today. around 11.11am or probably slightly earlier, but i like the number i suppose. 11.11 am on 5-10-11.

I've told the story quite a few times now... lets try to get this as accurate as possible.

It starts yesterday. Tuesday night. Lavie has been off her medication for almost 2 days now. I get home and hear that she had been hiding under the fishtank almost the whole day. She only just moved. She had peed and sat in it again. I was worried.

I find her in my bedroom, sitting on the floor, looking at nothing in particular. I drop to my knees and lower my head till my eyes are level with her. She looks at me without a word. "She's been like this all day," says Janice, worry edged in her voice. "Her breathing is very heavy."

I look at Lavie, and gingerly move my hand towards her nose, stopping short of touching her. I've learnt that she loves to smell things, and things she smells she identifies, and won't attack in a flurry of claws and teeth. Not that in her current state she would do so. I almost wish she did. Gently, i stroke her; under the chin, behind the nape, under her cheeks. She closes her eyes and purrs, but I barely feel it.

Lavie's breathing really is heavy. I take a video of her and send it to Christina. Christina confirms our fears... It's not good. Dorcas calls Amos and we are soon on the way to the vet.

Dr Nicholas Woo, the vet at Companion Animal Clinic greets us. He's the vet who has been caring for Lavie since we first discovered her illness back in August. After an X-Ray, he tells us the bad news.. the fluid in her lungs is as bad as it was the previous time. The news shocks me badly. I thought the buildup was from birth the last time around! This has barely been 2 months!

We choose to go ahead with the operation to extract the fluid. On his way out, Dr Woo says this, that we should be prepared for the worst eventuality, Lavie was already a cat under duress, and the anesthesia would only weaken her already weak heart. At that time I heard those words, I didn't know how true they would come to be. Warnings rarely happen don't they?

4 hours later, I'm in bed, and Janice shakes me awake. "Lavie's heart stopped. They have resuscitated her, but she's unconscious. do you want to go see her?"

I shake sleep off myself like I've never done all year. A cold black pit has appeared inside me and I shiver.

Janice's voice breaks as she says, "I can't go. You all should go." It's close to 5am, and school will start soon for her. "Tell Lavie I love her."

Amos meets me and Dorcas downstairs. "He's the one who first picked her up," her voice a whisper, thin, nervous. An image fleets through my mind of the day we met her. Young, excitable, friendly. Even then she liked rubbing her cheek against things. Amos drives at the speed of light. I hear Dorcas sniffing.

Dr Woo is in the operating theather when we arrive. "I have to tell you professionally, that the chances of her recovering are very slim." His voice has the tiniest of quakes, his eyes sad. Lavie lies on the table, covered in warm towels, tubes sticking out of her. I look at her half closed eyes that don't seem to see anything, and I feel nothing inside me. Just the winter of my soul. "I'll leave you guys alone, I'll be next door... but you have to make a decision soon."

Amos, Dorcas and I take turns to pet Lavie. We stroke her, call her name, rub her foot the way she likes it. Every time the machine taking her pulse goes silent for a little too long, we turn out eyes fearfully to the monitor, only to be hear the next beep, signifying her heartbeat. I call Janice... we agree to let her go... I hear Mummy's voice croak her agreement over the phone.

I look at the clock. 6am. When it hits 6am I will let go. Now, I would pray. Pray and hope and pray and have faith.

Its a minute to 6am. I'm still stroking her ears, listening, watching, to anything that might signify hope. Dorcas does the same. Then... I see it. I see her look at me and know me; I stare deep into her half open eyes and see her. "She's half awake!" We intensify our efforts. Her breathing grows deeper and the light within her eyes grows ever that little bit brighter.

6.10am, Amos runs to call Dr Woo. "I think shes conscious," I think I say. Dr Woo looks at her and I see his surprise. At that moment Lavie's eyes flicker open, and her body twitches. He unplugs a few tubes, and tests the reaction of her tongue. Lavie manages to feebly pull it almost all the way in, and makes a gurgle of a cry. "This is very good, this is a good improvement," says Dr Woo, as he unplugs the rest of the tubes. Lavie cries out again, and her legs shiver and tremble. Our spirits lift and hope grows in us.

He lifts her and places her in an oxygen cage. Its to help her breathe she says. I trust him, but a silent cry bleeds from my soul as I see her in her most pathetic state ever. She has grown a little less responsive already, but we hope that with a little rest she will get better. I make plans in my head of what to buy her when she's well.

I'm at my desk, desperately awaiting 830am, when Dr Woo said he will update us. I've been working for almost 2 hours, clearing a backlog of mails and working through my files. A message from Dorcas jumps onto my phone's screen and I jump as well. She's not better... but shes not worse. Observation continues. I pray again and dive back into work.

11.11am... my phone bleeps a message from my sister once again.

She's passed on. My little wonder has left us, to wherever God has prepared for her.

The rest of the morning passes by in a daze. I laugh, talk, work, everything buried under a well made mask, a mask I wear so well. I slip up once, tears building in my eyes. I dab them away and wonder if Zuraidah saw that. I type an email explaining everything and disappear from the office. I walk. I find a seat. And I write. Midway though I weep.

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Its 5.40pm and we are all gathered around the tiny table in the clinic. We all are there.. Daddy, Mummy, Janice, Dorcas, Amos, me. And tiny Lavie lying in a tub, covered by a towel. We wait patiently for the nurse to leave the room. I look at everyone, some eyes are red, some are hesitant. The door closes, and i pull back the towel.

Everybody breaks down.

Somehow we find ourselves, and we take a few photos of our pretty cat. She's been laid out, hugging her favourite stuffed toy, the goat-called-donkey, and her eyes are closed. She is curled up, beautiful and at peace, like she always was when she was asleep. I stroke her the way she likes it and cry some more.

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And that ends the story of my little wonder. Her final chapter of life. Painful, troubled, and yet I thank God for it, for somehow I know she is well now. God gives me peace that way. I thank Him for all the time she has spent with us.

Lavie died because she was born with a heart that would grow too big. But it was big in more ways than one. Somewhere along the line she drew love out of us, and somewhere we all learned to love a little more. And in return she loved us so much.

Goodbye my sweet little meow mi. I love you so much, and I miss you.