- Joined
- Apr 29, 2014
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- 10
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Kitty will be remembered as the independent cat that if I wasn't around, he'd terrorize the dog. He'd make his own little game trying to catch his tail. He knew all the right times to come up for cuddles (even if he didn't know I was busy with some important work), he was always there to help in stressful times. He'd do his usual "You can pet me for 30 minutes but then I'm going to go pretend I'm hunting a mouse, or dig my claws into the dog playfully". He'd sit in my lap and watch my screen while I ran amok in Skyrim - I think he imagined it was as close as he'd get to being a young spry Kitty again. He'd always follow me around when I got home from work, waiting for me to plop on the couch to come and snuggle. He was reliably around near bed time, ready to cuddle until I fell asleep before he went off to his own bed.
The last few days he's been more and more peckish with his food, until yesterday when he pretty well refused it. Not for lack of trying to seem interested, he'd get a kibble in his mouth and drop it before having a chance to really bite into it. Seeing his trouble I went and got him some soft food and prepared to go to the vet on Monday (after having my own episode with the onset of a dental abscess and eating, I figured he could survive another day - I gave him some of the fairly recent pain medication from his last big adventure with the vet). He couldn't manage even the soft food, so I then took some tuna, put it through the blender until it was roughly the consistency of a milkshake, and even that he couldn't get down.
I observed him near the water dish, taking abnormally long, and with more of it getting around his face than in his mouth. I took him to the ER-Vet my normal Vet had recommended, as it was a Sunday and the normal Vet was closed. There, to my horror, I discovered he had a tumor/growth under his tongue. It was large enough that it was the reason why he couldn't pass food, and would only have growing trouble with liquids. The vet said it wasn't in a spot that they could operate on, that even if it were caught earlier the best we could hope for was 1-3 months (if the cat could still eat and drink). Kitty's case was advanced enough that they gave him until the end of the week at best.
Saddened but not beaten, I returned home with Kitty, intent on pampering him and spoiling him and letting him have the run of the house. His first directive was to sit in front of the water dish and attempt to drink some. After a few minutes I checked in on his progress, only to be horrified at seeing blood around his mouth and in the water (there was even a mucus-laden blood clot that managed to escape wherever it was and end up in the water). This is when I knew it was undoubtedly his time. Later the same (sun)day, the ER-Vet had agreed that it was the most humane thing we could do, rather than watch him struggle to eat and go thirsty (not for lack of interest; but inability). In my head I pondered that people can survive without tongues, why not just remove his tongue, until I realized how selfish that would be of me to ask him to endure that quality of life for just a few more weeks.
I will always remember the last few days and nights with him. Everyone seems to say your pet will let you know when it's that time. While I can't say I agree entirely, the vibes I was getting from my own cat were ones of unconditional love for each other, fleeting moments of normal sarcasm, and a growing sense of a desire for relief. I only know in my heart of hearts that putting him to sleep was the most humane and dignified way I could give him that relief, rather than watch him struggle to be the independent cat he'd always been, slipping to starvation, or go through the delirium of dehydration, all the while the tumor growing to the point where even a syringe wouldn't fit into his mouth far enough to keep him "just alive" enough.
My last words to him while he was still conscious were "Goodnight Kitty", just as the tranquilizer set in.
RIP - Kitty
1998-2015
The last few days he's been more and more peckish with his food, until yesterday when he pretty well refused it. Not for lack of trying to seem interested, he'd get a kibble in his mouth and drop it before having a chance to really bite into it. Seeing his trouble I went and got him some soft food and prepared to go to the vet on Monday (after having my own episode with the onset of a dental abscess and eating, I figured he could survive another day - I gave him some of the fairly recent pain medication from his last big adventure with the vet). He couldn't manage even the soft food, so I then took some tuna, put it through the blender until it was roughly the consistency of a milkshake, and even that he couldn't get down.
I observed him near the water dish, taking abnormally long, and with more of it getting around his face than in his mouth. I took him to the ER-Vet my normal Vet had recommended, as it was a Sunday and the normal Vet was closed. There, to my horror, I discovered he had a tumor/growth under his tongue. It was large enough that it was the reason why he couldn't pass food, and would only have growing trouble with liquids. The vet said it wasn't in a spot that they could operate on, that even if it were caught earlier the best we could hope for was 1-3 months (if the cat could still eat and drink). Kitty's case was advanced enough that they gave him until the end of the week at best.
Saddened but not beaten, I returned home with Kitty, intent on pampering him and spoiling him and letting him have the run of the house. His first directive was to sit in front of the water dish and attempt to drink some. After a few minutes I checked in on his progress, only to be horrified at seeing blood around his mouth and in the water (there was even a mucus-laden blood clot that managed to escape wherever it was and end up in the water). This is when I knew it was undoubtedly his time. Later the same (sun)day, the ER-Vet had agreed that it was the most humane thing we could do, rather than watch him struggle to eat and go thirsty (not for lack of interest; but inability). In my head I pondered that people can survive without tongues, why not just remove his tongue, until I realized how selfish that would be of me to ask him to endure that quality of life for just a few more weeks.
I will always remember the last few days and nights with him. Everyone seems to say your pet will let you know when it's that time. While I can't say I agree entirely, the vibes I was getting from my own cat were ones of unconditional love for each other, fleeting moments of normal sarcasm, and a growing sense of a desire for relief. I only know in my heart of hearts that putting him to sleep was the most humane and dignified way I could give him that relief, rather than watch him struggle to be the independent cat he'd always been, slipping to starvation, or go through the delirium of dehydration, all the while the tumor growing to the point where even a syringe wouldn't fit into his mouth far enough to keep him "just alive" enough.
My last words to him while he was still conscious were "Goodnight Kitty", just as the tranquilizer set in.
RIP - Kitty
1998-2015
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