- Joined
- Sep 17, 2014
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Hi all,
I just had to put my little boy Oscar down this morning. To give a background, we adopted him at 8 weeks old last October. Within the first week of having him, he went from being a fun playful kitten to one who wouldn't eat or play. We immediately took him to the emergency vet; neither of us had owned a cat before as we came from dog families, but my instinct told me something serious was up.
After being at the emergency vet for two days, we were told he had panlukopenia and had no white blood cells in his body. We were told he could have a blood transfusion, but there was only a 10-30% chance he would live. We had only had him a couple days, and it was going to be very expensive, but I knew I had to do it since he was now my responsibility. The animal rescue group we got him from helped get him moved to another vet, where he stayed for a week. The vet was very far away from where we live in the city ( about an hour and a half train ride) but I went to see him every night after work just to hold him for a half hour. It was the worst week, but looking back it was the best week because he ended up making a full recovery. He was from then on our miracle kitten. Oscar was the sweetest cat you could imagine. Played fetch, loved to have his belly rubbed and snuggle with his dad's. There was nothing that lit up his day more then if you threw him a ball and he could bring it back to you. He was my little guy and I couldn't believe I could love something as much as I loved him.
Two months after Oscar, we decided to get his baby sister Zoe, a 5 week old rescue. We didn't want him to be lonely during the day, so we figured he could use a playmate. They immediately bonded and loved each other and soon enough they were inseparable. Constantly playing, Zoe sleeping on Oscars belly. She was very skiddish when we first got her, but Oscar, like any big brother, made her have a tough skin. They were constantly getting in to trouble. Spinning all the toilet paper off the roll, knocking every single thing off the counter. It was amazing how they developed this bond and is bringing tears to my eyes thinking about it.
Last week, we noticed Oscar was starting to ignore his food and wouldn't play much. After last years events, we knew that any sign must be looked at by the vet. We brought him in and the vet said he had a fever. She gave him a vitamin B12 shot, some fluids and prescribed an antibiotic. He bounced back the next day and was eating again on his own. Sunday night however he began to not eat on his own. Monday and Tuesday we fed him with a syringe, hoping he was just still not feeling well from the fever and hoping it would pass. This morning we wanted to double check, so we brought him back to the vet. At first she wanted to take another blood test, but then she noticed his belly was full. They found yellow fluid. It wasn't good. She said it was 99.9% FIP and that soon it would travel to his lungs. This is the same doctor who saved Oscar before, so we knew we could trust her. We asked her opinion and like many of you know, FIP is a death sentence. As much as we wanted to keep him with us forever, we couldn't bear to put him through this again, in and out of the vet. We wanted him to go peacefully and not in pain. It is the hardest decision I've ever had to make.
We stayed with him for quite awhile, petting him and hugging him and kissing him. Rubbing all of his favorite spots around his ears. For the first time in a week, he nuzzled my beard like he used to all the time before he started feeling ill. I took it as a sign he was ready to go and giving me his permission. As everything happened, I held him tight, promising it would all be ok.
He's now in heaven, but I am still here, worried that I didn't do the right thing. I miss him so much. I know that we kept him living longer then most people probably would have, but it still hurts to know he only spent a year on this earth. I just hope I will see him again one day.
I just had to put my little boy Oscar down this morning. To give a background, we adopted him at 8 weeks old last October. Within the first week of having him, he went from being a fun playful kitten to one who wouldn't eat or play. We immediately took him to the emergency vet; neither of us had owned a cat before as we came from dog families, but my instinct told me something serious was up.
After being at the emergency vet for two days, we were told he had panlukopenia and had no white blood cells in his body. We were told he could have a blood transfusion, but there was only a 10-30% chance he would live. We had only had him a couple days, and it was going to be very expensive, but I knew I had to do it since he was now my responsibility. The animal rescue group we got him from helped get him moved to another vet, where he stayed for a week. The vet was very far away from where we live in the city ( about an hour and a half train ride) but I went to see him every night after work just to hold him for a half hour. It was the worst week, but looking back it was the best week because he ended up making a full recovery. He was from then on our miracle kitten. Oscar was the sweetest cat you could imagine. Played fetch, loved to have his belly rubbed and snuggle with his dad's. There was nothing that lit up his day more then if you threw him a ball and he could bring it back to you. He was my little guy and I couldn't believe I could love something as much as I loved him.
Two months after Oscar, we decided to get his baby sister Zoe, a 5 week old rescue. We didn't want him to be lonely during the day, so we figured he could use a playmate. They immediately bonded and loved each other and soon enough they were inseparable. Constantly playing, Zoe sleeping on Oscars belly. She was very skiddish when we first got her, but Oscar, like any big brother, made her have a tough skin. They were constantly getting in to trouble. Spinning all the toilet paper off the roll, knocking every single thing off the counter. It was amazing how they developed this bond and is bringing tears to my eyes thinking about it.
Last week, we noticed Oscar was starting to ignore his food and wouldn't play much. After last years events, we knew that any sign must be looked at by the vet. We brought him in and the vet said he had a fever. She gave him a vitamin B12 shot, some fluids and prescribed an antibiotic. He bounced back the next day and was eating again on his own. Sunday night however he began to not eat on his own. Monday and Tuesday we fed him with a syringe, hoping he was just still not feeling well from the fever and hoping it would pass. This morning we wanted to double check, so we brought him back to the vet. At first she wanted to take another blood test, but then she noticed his belly was full. They found yellow fluid. It wasn't good. She said it was 99.9% FIP and that soon it would travel to his lungs. This is the same doctor who saved Oscar before, so we knew we could trust her. We asked her opinion and like many of you know, FIP is a death sentence. As much as we wanted to keep him with us forever, we couldn't bear to put him through this again, in and out of the vet. We wanted him to go peacefully and not in pain. It is the hardest decision I've ever had to make.
We stayed with him for quite awhile, petting him and hugging him and kissing him. Rubbing all of his favorite spots around his ears. For the first time in a week, he nuzzled my beard like he used to all the time before he started feeling ill. I took it as a sign he was ready to go and giving me his permission. As everything happened, I held him tight, promising it would all be ok.
He's now in heaven, but I am still here, worried that I didn't do the right thing. I miss him so much. I know that we kept him living longer then most people probably would have, but it still hurts to know he only spent a year on this earth. I just hope I will see him again one day.
You had a beautiful boy!!
