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she’s gone.

September 25, 2007

i’m sorry this is all i keep writing about lately, and that you have to keep offering your condolences over and over, but as you can imagine, this is all i think about. all day long.

i wish i could say that tasha’s euthanasia went smooth as pie, and that she quickly went to sleep, but it did not go that way at all. i don’t want to go into details because it is far too upsetting to think about. all i know is, i’m glad it’s over, and that i miss her so very much.

i would like to share with you a blog written by my very dear friend. i don’t want to sound smug, but it was written about tasha and i and i though it appropriate to share it here. so, here you go.

blog source.

Sarah + Tasha

Tasha Cat was euthanised this morning. She had been at the shelter for almost its entire history: 13 years. She came in with her brother, Mishka, and they lived together in the shelter office, where they enjoyed their free time sleeping and being petted by our administrative coordinator (and my friend) Sarah.

Really, I didn’t know Tasha all that well. And I certainly didn’t appreciate her until her mouth cancer outgrew her jaw, and I knew we’d be losing her soon.

Last night, as Tasha spent her last evening at the Farm, Sarah slept in her office to spend some last time with her. I didn’t know until I came to the office and saw a mattress and sheets in Sarah’s office, cramped in behind her desk, right beneath the carefully-constructed beds Sarah had made for Tasha and Mishka.

I wasn’t in the office when the vet came, when we lost Tasha. Carolyn told me she could hear Sarah wailing through the office wall. Sarah has six cats at home. Sarah had two cats at the office. Sarah’s heart isn’t small enough to fill up.

When Sarah has a quick moment– a 15 minute break, 20 minutes after lunch– she runs up to her favourite animals. Bonnie and Waylon Donkeys have a special stick that they enjoy. Sarah has bandaged it up with tape as a makeshift handle. It’s their special stick, and it sits next to her desk. When I brought two old blankets to the Farm and offered them up for grabs, Sarah took both and put them in Tasha and Mishka’s beds. The verdict was, they liked them very much.

Sarah sees no irony in her love for animals. Where some people huff and puff, “How could you spend your time on animals when so many humans suffer?” I calmly explain that, as Ms. Newkirk said, “Because compassion isn’t some measly pot from which you can only take one spoonful.” But Sarah wouldn’t even entertain your question. She sees nothing to defend, nothing to explain, and the time it would take her to defend herself, could be better spent scratching behind Waylon’s ear, or rearranging Tasha’s bed.

There’s no description that can touch what Sarah is to the animals at the Farm. There’s nothing she could read and appreciate in a way that would mean more than the contented groan of a pig receiving a belly rub, or Tasha’s gentle purr.

That is the thing that Sarah is. There is nothing else to say.

below are two pictures taken last night. that’s tasha and mishka, enjoying bedtime with mom. i’m glad i have these memories to remember her by.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. September 25, 2007 2:07 am

    that is a WONDERFUL testament to who you are, and every word of it is true. i’m so sorry, sarah, i know how torn up you are right now. :( try as hard as you can to focus on happy tasha memories; they really do help. xoxo

  2. September 25, 2007 8:54 pm

    {{{sarah}}}

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