I started posting here on the Cat Site about a year ago when the husband I took in a litter of feral kittens. The people over in the feral cat care section really helped us to socialize them and the past year has been just great.
But, on Sunday, one of the cats - Conor - started to breath funnily. We kind of denied something was wrong but she wasn't doing any better within 24 hours so we took her to the vet first thing yesterday. He couldn't figure out what was wrong - she looked healthy, it was just the weird breathing. Anyway, we left her there for some tests. After the vet removed some fluid from her lungs, she died.
I am so sad. We only had her for a year, but I loved her so much. Both my husband and I are having such a tough time dealing with this, and her siblings are definitely feeling the loss.
I find her everywhere. We made a fire when we got home from viewing her at the vets last night, and I remembered how she used to love to stretch out in front of it. I grated some cheese for some pasta and I remembered how she liked to lick the grater.
I feel like it is my fault. The vet thinks she had some sort of congenital weakness and then suffered some sort of trauma that, in combination, her body couldn't recover from. We were away on Saturday night - what if it happened then? And when we got home on Sunday, we were tired so we slept when we got back - we couldn't see if anything was wrong. We went to the cinema as well - so we were pretty much gone all weekend. Why didn't I insist that we take her to the vet as soon as we suspected something was wrong? I wish I had spent all weekend with her.
I know this is all part of the grieving process. I just thought she would be with us for so much longer. My husband just got an awesome job in Vancouver, BC and she was supposed to move with us (along with her brothers).
The house feels a bit emptier without her. I just can't believe it.
But, on Sunday, one of the cats - Conor - started to breath funnily. We kind of denied something was wrong but she wasn't doing any better within 24 hours so we took her to the vet first thing yesterday. He couldn't figure out what was wrong - she looked healthy, it was just the weird breathing. Anyway, we left her there for some tests. After the vet removed some fluid from her lungs, she died.
I am so sad. We only had her for a year, but I loved her so much. Both my husband and I are having such a tough time dealing with this, and her siblings are definitely feeling the loss.
I find her everywhere. We made a fire when we got home from viewing her at the vets last night, and I remembered how she used to love to stretch out in front of it. I grated some cheese for some pasta and I remembered how she liked to lick the grater.
I feel like it is my fault. The vet thinks she had some sort of congenital weakness and then suffered some sort of trauma that, in combination, her body couldn't recover from. We were away on Saturday night - what if it happened then? And when we got home on Sunday, we were tired so we slept when we got back - we couldn't see if anything was wrong. We went to the cinema as well - so we were pretty much gone all weekend. Why didn't I insist that we take her to the vet as soon as we suspected something was wrong? I wish I had spent all weekend with her.
I know this is all part of the grieving process. I just thought she would be with us for so much longer. My husband just got an awesome job in Vancouver, BC and she was supposed to move with us (along with her brothers).
The house feels a bit emptier without her. I just can't believe it.