Today I will write about a sad event.
Our family cat Chai passed away on 6th May.
We left Azerbaijan on the 10th, so it was only 4 days before that.
Chai had been suffering from kidney failure since the latter half of last year and had been undergoing treatment in Mozambique and Azerbaijan.
Kidney failure has no ultimate cure, but it is still possible for a cat to live a long life through effective treatment and diet.
We had hoped that Chai would live a long life, since she was still relatively young, but unfortunately it did not work out for her.
In a way, this post is intended to settle my scattered thoughts and feelings about this event by writing what I felt and thought about it.
It is going to be a bit long and also sad, but I hope you could have a read.
Don't worry, both myself and my wife, who has raised Chai since he was a one-month-old kitten, were able to spend Chai's final days together and say goodbye, and we are both doing well now.
Of course, sadness arises whenever we think about Chai, especially when we think about the moment we had to say goodbye, but cherishing that memory, we are living our lives day by day in good spirits.
And we can only be thankful now for having met Chai and for the good times we had together.
My wife met Chai while she was stationed in Islamabad, Pakistan.
At that time, I was living in Chichijima in the Ogasawara Islands.
Chai was born on the rooftop of the building where my wife was working.
One day, Chai fell off the roof by accident, and was picked up by the guard who was on patrol at the time.
The guard tried to return the kitten to the mother, but the mother did not accept the kitten, probably because it had been touched by a human.
My wife decided to take the kitten home and named it Chai, a typical sweet tea and milk drink in Pakistan.
Chai then grew up in Pakistan and then moved to Mozambique and Azerbaijan along with my wife’s job assignments.
This must have been very stressful for Chai.
Chai was a very scaredy and sensitive cat.
When my wife and Chai arrived in Mozambique, I remember how deeply relieved I was when my wife sent me a picture of Chai sleeping peacefully on a soft bed in our new home.
I joined my wife and Chai later in Mozambique, and that was the first time we lived together as a family.
At that time, we lived in an apartment in the capital city of Maputo, and Chai was basically a house cat, although we did let her out occasionally in the balcony for a bit.
About six months after we started living together in Maputo, my wife flew out to Myanmar.
She couldn't take Chai to Myanmar.
So Chai and I stayed in Mozambique and then we moved to Namaacha, a rural town Mozambique.
We started living in a house with a big garden.
Chai was a house cat at first, but she was always looking out the window that opened toward the backyard.
She was always eager for adventure.
Unlike Maputo, Namaacha was full of nature.
The sounds of birds and insects, the smells of trees and grass, which Chai could feel from just outside the house, must have been very tempting.
Chai began to appeal to me, to let her out of the house.
Her appeal was so strong, I finally gave in and at first I put a harness on her and went for walks together in the backyard.
Chai was clearly unhappy, for not being free to go wherever she wants.
Then, at one point, I took the harness off and let her go out.
I couldn't keep watching her all the time, so at some point I let Chai go out freely.
At first I was scared.
What if she doesn't come back?
What if she eats something bad?
What if she gets attacked by a snake?
There are also stray cats around, and neighbors I don’t know, so what if someone does something to her?
Many thoughts came to my mind.
For your peace of mind, Chai did not encounter any accidents or injuries outside until we left Mozambique.
After becoming an outdoor cat, Chai and my life changed drastically.
As soon as I woke up in the morning, I opened the door to the backyard and Chai would run outside.
First she would wander around the backyard, scouting, lounging on the sand, then she would climb the wall and disappear toward the neighbor's house, or sometimes across the street to another neighbor's house.
Sometimes she climbed trees.
She made many attempts at bird hunting, though never succeeded.
Sometimes she would sleep comfortably on a vegetable bed.
After her morning walk, she would usually come home, eat breakfast, and then take a nap inside.
In the afternoon, she would again want to go outside, but since it would be harder to find her in the dark and the risk was higher, so I would consider to let her out or not depending on the situation.
Even when I let her out in the afternoon, she would come home by dark and eat dinner at home.
Chai clearly loved being outside, and even though I knew it was risky, I was happy to see her enjoying her life to the fullest.
There were a few incidents.
There was a time when she was arguing with a stray cat that came to the backyard.
At first I was just watching them, but I didn't want them to get into a full-on fight, so I intervened and brought Chai back home.
Another day, Chai did not return at night. It was raining heavily outside.
I was really upset and walked around the neighborhood in the rain looking for Chai.
I struggled to find her, until around 2:00 in the morning, I found her sheltering from the rain under a tree in front of our house.
I was feeling the fear of really losing her at the time.
I was thanking god while wiping drenched Chai with a towel.
From that day on, I only let Chai out in the afternoon when I or my company staff was watching her.
I don't even know what Chai was doing outside the house.
Where she went, what she touched, and maybe even what she could have eaten.
I cannot deny at all that the reason for Chai’s kidney failure may have been that she started to wander outside.
Or could also be the stress of living apart from my wife, or experiencing long distance travels.
I have the experience of keeping turtles and hamsters as a pet when I was a child.
Chai was the first pet I had as an adult.
As I spent time with Chai and seeing Chai become ill, I began to think about what it means to live with an animal.
Was it better to protect Chai by restraining her from doing the things she wanted to do (i.e. going outside), or was it OK to let her do what she wanted to do, even if it was risky?
Were my choices and actions correct?
And was Chai happy in the first place?
Is it our ego to try to make Chai to live long as possible?
Is long-life always justified?
Many thoughts were swirling inside my head.
In the end, there is no answer.
Chai spent about a month in the hospital before she passed away.
She was not doing well and needed to be put on an IV fluid therapy two or three times a day, so she could not be treated at home.
She was in the care of a trusted vet who took very good care of Chai.
My wife and I went to visit her two or three times a week.
This period was very difficult for us.
Chai obviously didn't want to be hospitalized, but she had to be treated or else wouldn't survive.
There must have been a lot of stress from the hospitalization.
The vet was doing its best to ease Chai's stress, and we trusted them with the anticipation of Chai recovering, but every time we went to visit Chai, it was always painful to see her meowing as if she was complaining to us.
It made us wonder again if we were doing the right thing for Chai or not.
Then came the last three days that we spent with Chai.
On that first day, I told the vet that my wife and I were going to visit Chai today, as usual, and received an unexpected reply.
The vet said, that Chai isn’t eating.
I immediately called the vet.
The vet told me, that because no more treatment could be effective for Chai, we might as well take her home, at least for her last moment.
This was something we had suggested before, but when we were really faced with the situation, my wife and I could not stop crying.
It was probably the worst day of my life.
Soon after, my wife and I took a cab to the vet.
The vet was crying too.
”I'm sorry, I did everything I could, but I'm sorry," she said.
We thanked her and took Chai home.
This was Chai’s first time home in about a month.
My wife and I created a place for Chai to relax and for the next three days I slept and worked in the living room where I could watch Chai all the time.
I didn't care about my sleep.
The day I brought Chai home, tears won’t stop coming out for the whole time.
It was hard for me to witness Chai, skinny and her fur shaggy, walking around weakly.
But as I watched Chai, I realized something.
Chai would walk to the window side, or try to go to see the sink when the water is running… she was just doing what she wanted to do as much as she could in her own way.
I was saddened by the comparison of her past appearance, when she was healthy and bit chubby, and her present appearance.
But Chai in front of me was just living in the present moment to the fullest.
I felt like an idiot, thinking that I was the one who was making comparisons with the past and grieving.
I decided to just be with Chai in the present.
For the next three days, my wife and I spent some wonderful time with Chai.
Chai spent most of time lying down, but every once in a while she would suddenly get up and walk.
Since she couldn’t walk steadily, I supported her and we went to the kitchen, sometimes put her on the table, went to see the wardrobe, or went to sit by the window.
Since Chai came back from the vet, we spent two days like that.
Then Chai stopped eating the Churu (cat treats) she had been eating at first, then stopped drinking water, and slowly her body began to weaken.
The last day, it was a beautiful sunny day in Baku.
I opened the window that I never opened before and let Chai lie down in front of it. Chai, who loved to look outside and have adventures, was enjoying the spring breeze coming in from the window.
This day, my wife had to leave for work for a few hours in the afternoon.
We were both worried that Chai might pass away while my wife was out.
Perhaps Chai knew this, too.
I think Chai was waiting for my wife to come home.
Fortunately my wife made it home, and in less than 10 minutes Chai passed away inside our arms.
Chai was gentle, sensitive, and mischievous.
Chai was curious about the outside world.
Chai didn’t like to be alone too much.
I am sorry Chai, that we had to keep you in the hospital for a month.
We are so thankful for you to come into our lives and spent the time together with us.
The vet accepted to take Chai's body soon after.
The vet even offered to take care of the burial arrangements and that there was no need for us to pay for it.
Chai was loved by many people.
In Pakistan, in Mozambique, in Azerbaijan.
There, we said goodbye to Chai and the vet.
Here I would like to share a little interesting experience I had, about Chai’s burial.
When the vet told me about the burial, I automatically interpreted that burial = being put into a grave.
I wondered if there would be a gravestone or something, and I wondered where in Baku the graveyard would be.
The next day, the vet sent me a Google Map link to the place where Chai was buried. It was just an empty place near the mountains about 1.5 hours drive from Baku, near Gobustan where there is a famous ancient rock paintings.
To be honest, I was a little shocked at first, but when I learned that this is the normal way for animals to be buried in Azerbaijan, and that there is no custom of burying them in graves, I accepted the reality.
Chai's body will return to earth near Gobustan, but I am sure that Chai is now, as always, wandering around and adventuring the world as she pleases.
Chai taught me the preciousness of simply living in the moment.
In a sense, this is one answer I have found from this experience: to be grateful for what we have, and to live in the present moment without getting caught up in the past or future.
Thank you again, Chai.
We love you, and we hope you get to go wandering in many of your favorite places.
Let's play together again, someday.