Send Me a Sign

I attempted one conversation. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

Gyver looked over—made eye contact for the first fractional second since he’d opened his door—then turned back to the road with a clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip. “I don’t know. God, she’s thin. How long’s she been sick?”

“She hasn’t. I didn’t …” Guilt kept me mute for the rest of the drive.





Chapter 44

The guilt grew to tremors as the vet examined Jinx and gave me options: put her down humanely or try and manage her pain with medications that would make her groggy and disoriented.

“Maybe you should wait until your parents are here before you make any decisions.”

“But she was fine yesterday,” I protested.

The vet’s eyes examined me as well: my stubbly, patchy head, circled eyes, tiny frame drowning in Gyver’s sweatshirt. His voice was full of pity. “Jinx is a very sick cat, Mia. She’s in the final stages of kidney failure. Maybe if you’d caught this sooner, but a lot of cats don’t have outward manifestations. We have no way of knowing, and unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do at this stage.”

I hadn’t noticed. When was the last time I’d made time for Jinx? Done more than complain about her shedding? She used to sit on my lap while I did homework, but I hadn’t done any in a while. I saw her when she slept on the pillow next to mine, but Jinx had become impatient with my nighttime mania and started sleeping downstairs.

She’d been suffering and I hadn’t noticed. The thought made me gag. My legs faltered. Gyver pointed to a chair and blocked my view of the exam table where Jinx shivered and vomited.

“Why don’t I give you a few minutes to make your decision?” the vet said while mopping up the mess. “I’ll go try your parents again. Come find me when you’re ready.” He gingerly picked up Jinx and set her on a clean blanket on the table.

It was impossible not to make the connection between my dying cat and me. She was sick. She was in pain. And there was no way I could help her. She stared at me through barely open eyes. Did I have enough courage to be merciful?

“Do you want to wait for your parents? Your dad might be home soon,” Gyver said.

I didn’t answer, but went to stand beside her at the table. I was too busy memorizing the whirl of hair on her nose and the contrast between her eraser-pink tongue and midnight fur.

“We could bring her home now, and you could come back later with your parents. Or you could try the drugs,” he suggested.

Jinx yawned, crying out again from the motion. Her eyes, rimmed with gummy discharge, were full of trust and agony. One of her paws batted against my arm. I touched it softly and she flinched.

“I can’t.” I turned my head away and muffled the rest of the words in the shoulder of the sweatshirt. “We have to do this now. I can’t make her suffer anymore.”

“I’ll get the vet.” He paused to trace a finger around the edge of Jinx’s ear. She tried to purr, a reflex reaction, but the sound was stuttery. Gyver rushed out of the room, and I kissed her nose and wiped my eyes on her fur.

The vet entered, followed by a stone-faced version of my best friend. He crossed the room and stood with his back toward me, engrossed in the pet medication flyers tacked to a bulletin board, his arms tight around his chest, gripping handfuls of shirt.

The doctor began to explain how Jinx wouldn’t feel a thing. “It’s like falling asleep. You can even hold her while I administer it.” Tears flooded my cheeks, and I tightened my grip on the nearly motionless bundle on the table, clutching at the last moments I’d have with her.

“This is an emotional decision. I spoke with your father while I was out of the room. He and your mother can’t get here before we close tonight. I’ll understand if you want to go home and come back with one of them tomorrow. Or I can recommend a twenty-four-hour vet.” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to have any regrets, Mia. If you’d prefer, you can wait in the lobby.”

“No!” The word was knotted in a sob and shaken from my chest. Gyver turned and it was spelled in the set of his jaw and the shroud of his eyes: his heart was equally broken. “She has to know I’m here.”

And Gyver was there too. At my side in four strides, arm around me and supporting me as I stood at the exam table. I was trembling, but he was steady. I gave Jinx a last kiss, whispered in her ear, and Gyver did too. Then I gave her a last, last kiss. With the dregs of my courage I turned to the doctor. “Ready.”

If Gyver’s hands hadn’t been under mine, I would’ve sagged to the floor. I would’ve run from the room.

When it was over, he had to nearly carry me to the lobby. He filled out the paperwork while I sobbed in the corner, pulling the hood up over my face. Turning to lean my forehead against the wall when an eight-year-old and his mom came skipping in with their calico kitten.

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