My snugglebunch Silver died January 13th. I think I can finally write about it without screaming or punching the sofa.
He was diagnosed with a 1.3 cm lung tumor on 2/15/22. I got x-rays every two months to check it. It had grown to 1.6 in July and then not at all on 9/11/22. The vet said he'd never seen that before, it was very rare, and he expected Silver to have a longer life than the 1 year originally predicted. Guess I was riding high on that and didn't check in November. I paid too much attention to stupid Christmas until he began to eat less and less and was losing weight. Couldn't get an x-ray until 11/13/23. He jut got worse and more lethargic until January 2nd when I took him to emergency vet.
There was a new tumor, 1.4 cm and had fluid in his lungs. They gave him less than 3 months, some appetite stimulant and gabapentin. He ate better and had more active days until his physical checkup with the oncologist on January 13th. I learned nothing new, so I wasted that precious 2 hours.
We were home 45 minutes until Silver meowed two loud and painful meows, began hyperventilating, jumped off my lap and began panting, writhing and trying to meow/cry. I thought he was choking, tried to do kitty heimlich and drove to my primary vet 7 minutes away at 5:15 PM. After I finally accepted he was dying, he was euthanized. I held him as he passed and afterwards for some time.
Afterwards I remained in state of numb shock with bursts ofscreaming, crying, wailing, punching the sofa, kicking the (very sturdy) kitchen cabinet doors replaying the whole thing until passed out exhausted 6:00 AM Monday morning.
I wore the shirt that I held him in as he died for 3 days and was pretty much the same until today, a week later.
I want time to stop. Because every minute is just another minute between now and the last time Silver was with me, purring in my lap, running down the hall, snuggling his head under my chin when he climbed on my chest purring and saying good morning, waiting on the sofa for me to get settled so he could get in my lap, greeting me at the door, jumping out the window to the screen porch. He was the happiest part of my day.
I love you, my snugglebunch, button-kitty, Silverado, hi ho Silver, Silvercat, Mr. Kitty, Silverpants. You were my best friend and I can't let you go.
He was diagnosed with a 1.3 cm lung tumor on 2/15/22. I got x-rays every two months to check it. It had grown to 1.6 in July and then not at all on 9/11/22. The vet said he'd never seen that before, it was very rare, and he expected Silver to have a longer life than the 1 year originally predicted. Guess I was riding high on that and didn't check in November. I paid too much attention to stupid Christmas until he began to eat less and less and was losing weight. Couldn't get an x-ray until 11/13/23. He jut got worse and more lethargic until January 2nd when I took him to emergency vet.
There was a new tumor, 1.4 cm and had fluid in his lungs. They gave him less than 3 months, some appetite stimulant and gabapentin. He ate better and had more active days until his physical checkup with the oncologist on January 13th. I learned nothing new, so I wasted that precious 2 hours.
We were home 45 minutes until Silver meowed two loud and painful meows, began hyperventilating, jumped off my lap and began panting, writhing and trying to meow/cry. I thought he was choking, tried to do kitty heimlich and drove to my primary vet 7 minutes away at 5:15 PM. After I finally accepted he was dying, he was euthanized. I held him as he passed and afterwards for some time.
Afterwards I remained in state of numb shock with bursts ofscreaming, crying, wailing, punching the sofa, kicking the (very sturdy) kitchen cabinet doors replaying the whole thing until passed out exhausted 6:00 AM Monday morning.
I wore the shirt that I held him in as he died for 3 days and was pretty much the same until today, a week later.
I want time to stop. Because every minute is just another minute between now and the last time Silver was with me, purring in my lap, running down the hall, snuggling his head under my chin when he climbed on my chest purring and saying good morning, waiting on the sofa for me to get settled so he could get in my lap, greeting me at the door, jumping out the window to the screen porch. He was the happiest part of my day.
I love you, my snugglebunch, button-kitty, Silverado, hi ho Silver, Silvercat, Mr. Kitty, Silverpants. You were my best friend and I can't let you go.