Hi everyone,
This is my second post. I had initially come here just to read what others were saying and maybe join in when I got the feel of things, but then I saw a post that I had to reply to, and so I guess I'm just jumping in with both feet.
My best friend died about two weeks ago as I write this. His name was Onyx, and he was a long-haired tuxedo cat. People think black when they hear "Onyx," but real Onyx is banded black and white. Most black onyx in jewelry is dyed that way (it's the same as chalcedony, I think).
He was fifteen, and I had him since he was six months old. I loved (and I still do love him, even though he's not here) him more than words can express, and he truly was my best friend. He was tentatively diagnosed with lymphoma on new year's eve, and it was confirmed by a fine-needle biopsy shortly thereafter.
That word, "lymphoma," was the one word I least wanted to hear. My previous precious cat, whom I'd had for 14 years, died of lymphoma days before I got Onyx, and I was crushed then too. I soon formed a bond with Onyx every bit as strong as with his predecessor, C.C. After I got over the worst of the pain after C.C. passed, I felt blessed to have two "once in a lifetime" cats back to back. The downside of that is that the loss is truly devastating, as I am sure anyone who would visit a cat forum already knows.
C.C. had undergone chemo for his lymphoma, and he did really well on it. It's not like it is with humans... my little guy did really well on it, and he was in remission for 9 months. With people, they just about kill you with the chemo, with the idea being that the even more susceptible cancer cells will be wiped out. With pets, they aim to give you more quality time with your furry family member, and they tell you that the cancer is eventually going to come back. I had nine more months with my sweet kitty.
I elected to treat Onyx's lymphoma too, but it didn't work. After the first round of the 3-drug combo, the masses in his intestine and in his lymph nodes had not shrunk, and he was not eating. I syringe fed him and gave him sub-q fluids, but it didn't help. He went into kidney failure, and the ER vet was telling me he'd need large amounts of IV fluids to hopefully bring his kidney values down to get him stable enough for surgery, and he would need to have a feeding tube implanted.
If the IV fluids worked, which was by no means certain, and if the feeding tube surgery went well and had no complications, I would then have a cat with lymphoma that had failed to respond to chemo, and who has seriously diminished kidney capacity. The vet agreed, saying that the prognosis was poor. I asked her if there was any chance my kitty would be alive in one month, and she quietly said that she didn't think there was.
I made the decision to have my sweet little guy put down. I had never had to do that before. I just kept telling him, "I love you, I love you" as he slipped from consciousness, snug in a blanket in my arms.
In the period between the initial tentative diagnosis and his death, I had plenty of time to tell my guy how much I loved him, how much he has meant to me for all these years, how much he's made my life better. He was a very sweet and affectionate cat, and I know for sure that he loved me just as much. Of course, when I say "plenty of time," all things are relative. There was time to say goodbye and to give him some extra loving, but no matter how much time I had, it would never be enough. If I had gotten 9 more months as a result of the chemo, it would not be enough either. It never could be enough. How could there be enough time with someone you love more than life itself?
It was rough. It still is. I'd adopted Onyx four days after C.C. died, and I am sure some people would think that's too soon, but I wanted to focus on something positive and lovely rather than having nothing but the grief. I did the same thing after Onyx passed, finding her in Petfinder just as I had with Onyx. The profile said she was an adorable little cuddle bug, and that was what I was looking for... a very affectionate, cuddly cat. She was listed as a kitten, and the picture was adorable, and I was sure she'd be adopted nearly instantly. The shelter was closed for 2 more days, and I left a message in the hopes I could get them to do it sooner (they have to have staff caring for the animals even if they are not open, right?), but it didn't work.
I showed up before they opened and waited, and as soon as the "Open" sign came on, I went in and asked for her. I found out she was ten months old and had been born in the shelter-- so she'd been passed over from the time she was ready to be adopted out until the present. How?? The poor dear!
She was in the kitten cage, and while most of the kittens were reaching through the bars with their paws and meowing for attention, she lay in the bottom of the cage, not trying to get anyone's attention. She was really nervous when they took her out, but they handed her to me and let me pet her in the visiting room. She immediately relaxed in my lap and let me pet her, purring softly. I knew I would bring her home right then.
When I got her home, she was very frightened at first. She refused to come out of the carrier for a few hours. She let me pet her, but she was clearly terrified. I let her remain in the carrier, but when I went to bed, I brought it with me and set it down next to me so she could become accustomed to me and realize I am not going to hurt her. Maybe this shyness was why she was passed over... with all the other kittens reaching through the bars for you, it's easy to ignore the one who isn't.
It took several days, but she came out of her shell. She's still not completely comfortable, I think, but she will come out of a hiding spot when I coax her (just by calling her name and patting the floor), and sleeps next to me on my bed. When I am in the living room, though, she is usually somewhere else, and I think that is reflective of how the living room was the last room that she explored as she became more bold. She is comfortable enough to play, and she's very energetic and quick as lightning. I can approach her and she will come toward me rather than running. I just would like her to sit with me in the living room (where I am most of the time when I am at home and not sleeping).
Now that she's more comfortable here, she's harder to pet for a while. She's got too much playing to do! I start to pet her and she loves it, but before long she becomes playful and starts charging all around the house. Playing is fun too, but I want to make sure she loves being pet as much as I love petting her. I already know she purrrred as I pet her even though she was afraid before, and one of the caretakers there said she really is a cuddle bug and that she would miss her, but was glad she was getting a home.
She has helped make losing Onyx a little more bearable. I adore her already, and I look forward to having a bond with her as strong as with Onyx. I'm feeling it... it's gonna happen.
The site (linked above) called her a torbie, but look at those paws!
This is my second post. I had initially come here just to read what others were saying and maybe join in when I got the feel of things, but then I saw a post that I had to reply to, and so I guess I'm just jumping in with both feet.
My best friend died about two weeks ago as I write this. His name was Onyx, and he was a long-haired tuxedo cat. People think black when they hear "Onyx," but real Onyx is banded black and white. Most black onyx in jewelry is dyed that way (it's the same as chalcedony, I think).
He was fifteen, and I had him since he was six months old. I loved (and I still do love him, even though he's not here) him more than words can express, and he truly was my best friend. He was tentatively diagnosed with lymphoma on new year's eve, and it was confirmed by a fine-needle biopsy shortly thereafter.
That word, "lymphoma," was the one word I least wanted to hear. My previous precious cat, whom I'd had for 14 years, died of lymphoma days before I got Onyx, and I was crushed then too. I soon formed a bond with Onyx every bit as strong as with his predecessor, C.C. After I got over the worst of the pain after C.C. passed, I felt blessed to have two "once in a lifetime" cats back to back. The downside of that is that the loss is truly devastating, as I am sure anyone who would visit a cat forum already knows.
C.C. had undergone chemo for his lymphoma, and he did really well on it. It's not like it is with humans... my little guy did really well on it, and he was in remission for 9 months. With people, they just about kill you with the chemo, with the idea being that the even more susceptible cancer cells will be wiped out. With pets, they aim to give you more quality time with your furry family member, and they tell you that the cancer is eventually going to come back. I had nine more months with my sweet kitty.
I elected to treat Onyx's lymphoma too, but it didn't work. After the first round of the 3-drug combo, the masses in his intestine and in his lymph nodes had not shrunk, and he was not eating. I syringe fed him and gave him sub-q fluids, but it didn't help. He went into kidney failure, and the ER vet was telling me he'd need large amounts of IV fluids to hopefully bring his kidney values down to get him stable enough for surgery, and he would need to have a feeding tube implanted.
If the IV fluids worked, which was by no means certain, and if the feeding tube surgery went well and had no complications, I would then have a cat with lymphoma that had failed to respond to chemo, and who has seriously diminished kidney capacity. The vet agreed, saying that the prognosis was poor. I asked her if there was any chance my kitty would be alive in one month, and she quietly said that she didn't think there was.
I made the decision to have my sweet little guy put down. I had never had to do that before. I just kept telling him, "I love you, I love you" as he slipped from consciousness, snug in a blanket in my arms.
In the period between the initial tentative diagnosis and his death, I had plenty of time to tell my guy how much I loved him, how much he has meant to me for all these years, how much he's made my life better. He was a very sweet and affectionate cat, and I know for sure that he loved me just as much. Of course, when I say "plenty of time," all things are relative. There was time to say goodbye and to give him some extra loving, but no matter how much time I had, it would never be enough. If I had gotten 9 more months as a result of the chemo, it would not be enough either. It never could be enough. How could there be enough time with someone you love more than life itself?
It was rough. It still is. I'd adopted Onyx four days after C.C. died, and I am sure some people would think that's too soon, but I wanted to focus on something positive and lovely rather than having nothing but the grief. I did the same thing after Onyx passed, finding her in Petfinder just as I had with Onyx. The profile said she was an adorable little cuddle bug, and that was what I was looking for... a very affectionate, cuddly cat. She was listed as a kitten, and the picture was adorable, and I was sure she'd be adopted nearly instantly. The shelter was closed for 2 more days, and I left a message in the hopes I could get them to do it sooner (they have to have staff caring for the animals even if they are not open, right?), but it didn't work.
I showed up before they opened and waited, and as soon as the "Open" sign came on, I went in and asked for her. I found out she was ten months old and had been born in the shelter-- so she'd been passed over from the time she was ready to be adopted out until the present. How?? The poor dear!
She was in the kitten cage, and while most of the kittens were reaching through the bars with their paws and meowing for attention, she lay in the bottom of the cage, not trying to get anyone's attention. She was really nervous when they took her out, but they handed her to me and let me pet her in the visiting room. She immediately relaxed in my lap and let me pet her, purring softly. I knew I would bring her home right then.
When I got her home, she was very frightened at first. She refused to come out of the carrier for a few hours. She let me pet her, but she was clearly terrified. I let her remain in the carrier, but when I went to bed, I brought it with me and set it down next to me so she could become accustomed to me and realize I am not going to hurt her. Maybe this shyness was why she was passed over... with all the other kittens reaching through the bars for you, it's easy to ignore the one who isn't.
It took several days, but she came out of her shell. She's still not completely comfortable, I think, but she will come out of a hiding spot when I coax her (just by calling her name and patting the floor), and sleeps next to me on my bed. When I am in the living room, though, she is usually somewhere else, and I think that is reflective of how the living room was the last room that she explored as she became more bold. She is comfortable enough to play, and she's very energetic and quick as lightning. I can approach her and she will come toward me rather than running. I just would like her to sit with me in the living room (where I am most of the time when I am at home and not sleeping).
Now that she's more comfortable here, she's harder to pet for a while. She's got too much playing to do! I start to pet her and she loves it, but before long she becomes playful and starts charging all around the house. Playing is fun too, but I want to make sure she loves being pet as much as I love petting her. I already know she purrrred as I pet her even though she was afraid before, and one of the caretakers there said she really is a cuddle bug and that she would miss her, but was glad she was getting a home.
She has helped make losing Onyx a little more bearable. I adore her already, and I look forward to having a bond with her as strong as with Onyx. I'm feeling it... it's gonna happen.
The site (linked above) called her a torbie, but look at those paws!