Blog: Leon Was A Miracle. Today, We Put Him To Sleep

There is a part of your heart and soul that you don't even know exists till you share your life with a non-human.

It bursts into life the first time that non-human comes home. It fills and expands and flies as the years pass, and becomes burnished with the kind of innocent love that only non-humans and children can give you.

I don't like the word "pet" as it just doesn't do your non-human justice because it implies that you are the care-giver. I can't call myself the only care-giver in the equation as over the years, my non-humans have looked after me so carefully. As a child, my dog Rocky teaching me for the first time the magic of sharing this life. As a teenager, filled with angst and after the millionth argument with parents, venting to my dog Bubbles and feeling like he was the only living creature who understood me. In my adult years in Delhi, after a bad day, getting a warm, fat, purr-filled cuddle with my cat Raja. In Cape Town, where I moved 13 years ago, feeling like I had come home when I found my Leon and two other cats, Jenny and Atrox. It's a kind of care-giving that was magical every single day.

A few months after moving, I went to the SPCA to find and adopt a non-human. I came home with three. And one of them was Leon. As I stood there waiting to see which cat I might want, I felt a nudging at my knee. I looked down and there he was, Mr Golden Eyes, and that face, tapping me with his paw imperiously as if it say, look no further. And I didn't. He was already about three years old and I don't know what circumstances brought him to the SPCA, but maybe it was the universe who had put him there for me.

This morning, I held my Leon in my arms as he was gently put to sleep. At age 17, he was old and ailing. It came upon him suddenly. I had gone to India to visit family nearly two years after Covid broke upon us, and when I returned, all was normal and well. Ten days later, I noticed him walking funny. His hind quarters were wobbly. Then his one eye acquired a third membrane; his second eye followed. He had multiple vet visits, was given various medicines and was even on one unit of insulin as he tested positive for diabetes. He would have one good day, followed by a few not so good.

The last three days were awful. He was not in pain or suffering physically, but he could barely walk or eat and started to find hidden dark spaces in which to lie down. Leon loved yogurt, mussels, butter, my husband, my son and me. The order varied sometimes. He loved people. We used to set a chair for him at the dining table when we had guests as he wanted to be in on the action. He would follow my husband into the sauna and sit for 30 minutes in sweltering heat just to be with him. I could go up and down the stairs 30 times a day; he would follow 30 times a day. At night, he would sleep on my head on the pillow, and it felt like a pair of fat earmuffs. He knew my husband was a light sleeper so it was me he licked and purred to at night, and first thing In the morning, he would switch to my husband's side. He would greet my son at the gate and short of wagging his tail, be thrilled to see him. He loved cuddles and kisses. The more the better. Friends would come home to spend time with him because he seemed to know your mood and would pour love on you when needed.

I have loved many non-humans in my life. Mourned them all. But first Raja and then Leon were a straight out miracle.

To feel him slipping away slowly and not being able to engage or eat was so hard. Sometimes the greatest gift you can give your non-human is euthanizing them. Today there are perhaps two places in the world - the Netherlands and Switzerland - where you can do this for a loved family member, giving them joy and dignity and death in terms of their choosing.

I told him he was the best cat in the world and I thanked him for choosing me to be his person, and held his body as the needle went into his paw. I felt him go and the hardest thing I have done in a long time was to unwrap myself from around him and hand him over for cremation. We want his ashes. We want him back home. He was mainly an indoor cat who loved being with his people, and that's where he will get to stay.

Mourning is mourning. For many people around the world, their non-humans are the ones with whom they spend the bulk of their time, who stand witness to their lives, who everyday provide exactly what they need without asking. There are now debates on whether bereavement leave can be applicable to the loss of a non-human as a workplace rule. I don't see why not as love and heart and pain is a deserved journey with the beings who show up everyday and give us the very best of themselves.

A lot of people said to me he's had such a good life and you gave him so much love and he had the best life as a cat. All I can say is: I had such a good life with him in it, he gave me so much love and I had the best time as a human because he shared himself with me.

(Swati Thiyagarajan is an Environment Editor with NDTV and author of 'Born Wild', a book about her experiences with conservation and wildlife both in India and Africa.)

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this article are the personal opinions of the author. The facts and opinions appearing in the article do not reflect the views of NDTV and NDTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.