He was not my child
Sometimes I called him “Baby”. But his name wasn’t baby, it was Gideon. I chose this name as my partner and I left the shelter where we had adopted him. He was named after Gideon Yago, my MTV teenage crush. But the name is originally Hebrew, meaning warrior. Surely, Gideon was a warrior. He was found alone in a field - hungry, dirty, his body covered in thick, tangled mats. He was 7 years old then, shy but sweet.
Gideon relocated with us from Seattle to Zürich, and he lived with us until 2016 after my grandfather passed away, leaving my grandmother alone. I thought at the time it would be a good idea to bring Gideon to Kansas City, because my grandmother had taken care of someone her entire life and I was honestly worried about her. At the time I was also changing jobs, and thought Gideon would only stay with my grandma for about 4-6 months.
But my grandma got sick and began to rely on Gideon. At the same time I was also traveling a lot for work and some complicated personal life things happened, and before I knew it four years had gone by. I had seen Gideon each time I went back to Kansas City, and each time he looked older, and slower. I so desperately wanted to bring him back to Europe, but felt stuck.
Last December when I saw him, I knew he didn’t have much time left. I borrowed a stethoscope and put it to his chest, hearing the whoosh whoosh of his heart disease. The last time I saw him, I sat with him, telling him I loved him. He was shaking, looking weak, and I left my grandma’s house and got into the car, and when I looked back at the house Gideon was standing at the doorway, as if he knew that this was the Goodbye.
On May 1st my mom sent me a text writing that Gideon had gone completely blind and wouldn’t eat or drink. He barely moved for four days from the same spot on the kitchen floor. He had bad arthritis, heart disease, and becoming blind seemed like the final straw. He was alive but just wouldn’t move. I called my uncle and told him that he couldn’t put Gideon to sleep because it was too soon. I wasn’t ready.
But my uncle told me that I would just be prolonging his suffering, just because I wasn’t ready. I agreed with him and later that night, he called and said the vet had no hope for him. I offered one last plea: to pay thousands of dollars to fix his 17 year old eyes, but the vet said it would be of no use. Gideon’s body was done.
He was not my child, but without a doubt, my little guy is forever gone.
