I've been wandering around these forums now for a couple of weeks looking for answers and advice...
At the end of October I was given an 8 week old tabby kitten that I named Puck. He was the sweetest most loving kitten I'd ever known. His first day with me we went to visit my grandfather at a nursing home and Puck snuggled up into my arms and calmly walked around with me. Purring as elderly residents pet and loved on him. He was going to be a great therapy cat and I was excited to be part of this journey.
As with most kittens he wasn't all snuggle all the time. He'd run from one room to another... Tackle his "brother" (my almost 2 year old 11 pound monster Toby). Puck would run around biting and scratching all night... Until usually an hour or do before my alarm went off when he'd curl up close to me and fall asleep. He was the perfect combination of a lap cat and a playful kitten. I thought I'd have a permanent crick in my neck from him always sitting there.
After 2 weeks I decided to bring him in for his kitten surgeries and shots. Yes, I'd made a poor decision in deciding to declaw him. But he was already set to be alpha and I didn't want him to hurt my two older declawed cats.
Puck went in on a Thursday. They cashed me and said everything went great and I could pick him up the next afternoon. I called the next day and was told there was a little bleeding on his paw and they'd like to keep him one more night. The next day I was told he'd agitated his paw somehow and it was swollen. They were giving him Epsom salt massages and it was going down. By Monday I was feeling lonely for my baby. I went in to see him. His foot was enlarged and he had a cone head but that didn't stop him from jumping from the table to the counter and eventually settling into his favorite place on my shoulder. He stayed till Wednesday when I demanded my kitten back. He didn't have a fever he was eating and using the litterbox. The vet showed me how to massage his little paw and we went home. The first thing he did when I let him out of his carrier was tackle Toby. We spent the next couple days snuggled under a blanket watching movies. He'd cry wherever I left the room. He'd vomited a few times. Always clear and be always went to the litter box to do it. He was drinking water and catsip but I couldn't tell if he was eating. He felt thin but purred loudly from his perch on my shoulder. I brought him in Saturday afternoon for a check up. His foot wasn't swollen but didn't look normal. The vet told he was perfect. The tendons in his paw were contracted but would go back to normal. We went home and settled in for a quiet Saturday night. He did vomit again (the vet said this was a reaction to his clyndamycin and to just stop the antibiotic). This time it was yellow so I googled it and it said his tummy was empty. I brought him a bowl of food. Set it next to the cat fountain where he was laying. He looked at it but didn't pay it much attention. At bed time I carried him and placed him on my bed. He laid at the end for a while before jumping off. I got up for work the next morning a little early as v Toby had been biting my head. Toby and my female, Gypsy, were both in my room. I looked under the furniture where puck sometimes hid. I walked into my loft and Toby laid down at the end of the kitty tunnel. I saw Puck laying in there and reached in to b pet him. Be didn't move so I lifted him out. At some point during the night my healthy 11 week old kitten laid down in the tunnel and passed on.
The vet couldn't offer me an explanation. He had seen Puck the day before...
Now I live a life of irrational what ifs... What if I'd bright him into the ER after he vomited? What if I'd taken him to another vet to begin with? What if he caught something and gave it to my other two?
I still hear his meow and half expect him to run down the hallway. Toby and Gypsy look under every chair and bed. They are glued to me.
I'm devastated beyond words. Its too real that nothing I say or do can ever bring him back...
At the end of October I was given an 8 week old tabby kitten that I named Puck. He was the sweetest most loving kitten I'd ever known. His first day with me we went to visit my grandfather at a nursing home and Puck snuggled up into my arms and calmly walked around with me. Purring as elderly residents pet and loved on him. He was going to be a great therapy cat and I was excited to be part of this journey.
As with most kittens he wasn't all snuggle all the time. He'd run from one room to another... Tackle his "brother" (my almost 2 year old 11 pound monster Toby). Puck would run around biting and scratching all night... Until usually an hour or do before my alarm went off when he'd curl up close to me and fall asleep. He was the perfect combination of a lap cat and a playful kitten. I thought I'd have a permanent crick in my neck from him always sitting there.
After 2 weeks I decided to bring him in for his kitten surgeries and shots. Yes, I'd made a poor decision in deciding to declaw him. But he was already set to be alpha and I didn't want him to hurt my two older declawed cats.
Puck went in on a Thursday. They cashed me and said everything went great and I could pick him up the next afternoon. I called the next day and was told there was a little bleeding on his paw and they'd like to keep him one more night. The next day I was told he'd agitated his paw somehow and it was swollen. They were giving him Epsom salt massages and it was going down. By Monday I was feeling lonely for my baby. I went in to see him. His foot was enlarged and he had a cone head but that didn't stop him from jumping from the table to the counter and eventually settling into his favorite place on my shoulder. He stayed till Wednesday when I demanded my kitten back. He didn't have a fever he was eating and using the litterbox. The vet showed me how to massage his little paw and we went home. The first thing he did when I let him out of his carrier was tackle Toby. We spent the next couple days snuggled under a blanket watching movies. He'd cry wherever I left the room. He'd vomited a few times. Always clear and be always went to the litter box to do it. He was drinking water and catsip but I couldn't tell if he was eating. He felt thin but purred loudly from his perch on my shoulder. I brought him in Saturday afternoon for a check up. His foot wasn't swollen but didn't look normal. The vet told he was perfect. The tendons in his paw were contracted but would go back to normal. We went home and settled in for a quiet Saturday night. He did vomit again (the vet said this was a reaction to his clyndamycin and to just stop the antibiotic). This time it was yellow so I googled it and it said his tummy was empty. I brought him a bowl of food. Set it next to the cat fountain where he was laying. He looked at it but didn't pay it much attention. At bed time I carried him and placed him on my bed. He laid at the end for a while before jumping off. I got up for work the next morning a little early as v Toby had been biting my head. Toby and my female, Gypsy, were both in my room. I looked under the furniture where puck sometimes hid. I walked into my loft and Toby laid down at the end of the kitty tunnel. I saw Puck laying in there and reached in to b pet him. Be didn't move so I lifted him out. At some point during the night my healthy 11 week old kitten laid down in the tunnel and passed on.
The vet couldn't offer me an explanation. He had seen Puck the day before...
Now I live a life of irrational what ifs... What if I'd bright him into the ER after he vomited? What if I'd taken him to another vet to begin with? What if he caught something and gave it to my other two?
I still hear his meow and half expect him to run down the hallway. Toby and Gypsy look under every chair and bed. They are glued to me.
I'm devastated beyond words. Its too real that nothing I say or do can ever bring him back...