- Joined
- Nov 3, 2011
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My lovely boy, best known for sleeping in ridiculous positions like the one in my photo.
He was 4 years and 9 months old. I was away over the weekend, visiting my Dad, but my other half was here, and Picks was perfectly normal - humping M's leg (he has been done, but he does indulge in limb humping - did indulge), sleeping on M's feet, barrelling down the stairs for dinner.
Yesterday, M was at work, and Pickle seemed sluggish. He was asleep, not unusual for him during the morning, until at 11.30 I noticed that he had a full bowl of food. Very unusual for him - even more so when I checked with M, and he hadn't given Pickle breakfast. It was his dinner from the night before. Picks loved his food, and was always jumping up waiting for each meal.
He spent yesterday flopped on the floor, so I made an appointment with the vet for him for 9am today. At 3.45 yesterday afternoon, I touched him and he was cold to the touch. I called a cab (I don't drive), and got him to the vet.
His breathing was accelerated, he was breathing through his abdomen rather than his chest, and his temperature was a few degrees below normal. The vet kept him in for tests. An hour later, after an xray, they called and told me he had cardiomyopathy.
They put him in an oxygen tent and gave him some diuretics to take the fluid off his chest. He initially responded well, but I got a call at 7.30 this morning to tell me he had died during the night. It was peaceful, apparently - like someone would drift off to sleep in their favourite arm chair.
I love him so much, I expected to have him for at least another 10 years. He was so young, and he has been with me through some hard times - the separation of my parents, and we moved from Bucks to Hampshire to live with my partner together. My partner, a dog person through and through, sobbed this morning as he dug Pickle's grave. We have buried him in his favourite spot in the garden (he had even flattened the grass for us), in a cardboard box that he adopted as his favourite bed (depsite having a three-tiered 4 foot high extravaganza with 5 scratching posts and 16 balls - my other half went a bit crazy with Kitty City in January!), a blanket he had brought from our old house, and the remainder of his current packet of Dreamies for the journey.
It doesn't seem real, I keep expecting to hear the thud of him jumping off our bedroom windowsill, or see him strut in to the living room with his tail up. He was so young, and it was so sudden.
Cardiomyopathy is genetic, apparently, it shows itself in cats from 3 - 4 years old. You don't know they have it until it is too late, a lot of the time. However, apparently, there are tests you can do. Please do them. I wouldn't wish this agony on anyone. Two days ago my darling Pickle was fine and full of the joys of spring. Today he is gone. I needed to get this out, my grief and shock are overwhelming me - all I can do is sob. I miss him, I love him, I want him back with me.
He was 4 years and 9 months old. I was away over the weekend, visiting my Dad, but my other half was here, and Picks was perfectly normal - humping M's leg (he has been done, but he does indulge in limb humping - did indulge), sleeping on M's feet, barrelling down the stairs for dinner.
Yesterday, M was at work, and Pickle seemed sluggish. He was asleep, not unusual for him during the morning, until at 11.30 I noticed that he had a full bowl of food. Very unusual for him - even more so when I checked with M, and he hadn't given Pickle breakfast. It was his dinner from the night before. Picks loved his food, and was always jumping up waiting for each meal.
He spent yesterday flopped on the floor, so I made an appointment with the vet for him for 9am today. At 3.45 yesterday afternoon, I touched him and he was cold to the touch. I called a cab (I don't drive), and got him to the vet.
His breathing was accelerated, he was breathing through his abdomen rather than his chest, and his temperature was a few degrees below normal. The vet kept him in for tests. An hour later, after an xray, they called and told me he had cardiomyopathy.
They put him in an oxygen tent and gave him some diuretics to take the fluid off his chest. He initially responded well, but I got a call at 7.30 this morning to tell me he had died during the night. It was peaceful, apparently - like someone would drift off to sleep in their favourite arm chair.
I love him so much, I expected to have him for at least another 10 years. He was so young, and he has been with me through some hard times - the separation of my parents, and we moved from Bucks to Hampshire to live with my partner together. My partner, a dog person through and through, sobbed this morning as he dug Pickle's grave. We have buried him in his favourite spot in the garden (he had even flattened the grass for us), in a cardboard box that he adopted as his favourite bed (depsite having a three-tiered 4 foot high extravaganza with 5 scratching posts and 16 balls - my other half went a bit crazy with Kitty City in January!), a blanket he had brought from our old house, and the remainder of his current packet of Dreamies for the journey.
It doesn't seem real, I keep expecting to hear the thud of him jumping off our bedroom windowsill, or see him strut in to the living room with his tail up. He was so young, and it was so sudden.
Cardiomyopathy is genetic, apparently, it shows itself in cats from 3 - 4 years old. You don't know they have it until it is too late, a lot of the time. However, apparently, there are tests you can do. Please do them. I wouldn't wish this agony on anyone. Two days ago my darling Pickle was fine and full of the joys of spring. Today he is gone. I needed to get this out, my grief and shock are overwhelming me - all I can do is sob. I miss him, I love him, I want him back with me.
At least he passed without feeling any pain- you can take some small consolation in that.
Pickle..... My deepest sympathies to you 
...
