Sick.June 13, 2011 at 12:47 pm | Posted in My life, Parenting | 11 Comments
My cat is sick.
I had noticed that over the past month or so Puck’s water intake, and his subsequent trips to the litterpan, had increased. Pretty significantly.
At the same time, he seemed to be getting lazy about grooming, and his coat started to look pretty bad.
On Memorial Day weekend, we went away. When we got home, 48 hours later, the cat was nowhere to be found.
He had ZERO water in his dish.
I thought the worst, and went looking for him.
I found him in the bathtub, looking like a refugee.
But alive, thankfully.
And SO thirsty.
The low-grade alarm never really subsided over the next couple of days. He wasn’t really eating. Drinking tons of water. And though we bought a brush and were brushing him daily, his coat still looked matted and dull.
So I took him to the vet this weekend. And ahead of the appointment, I of COURSE googled it.
Dr. Google said likely it was his kidneys.
So yeah. He’s down to 10lbs; 4 of which he’s lost over the past year and a half, and 2 from last year at this time.
And the bloodwork came back with elevated toxins, which is a sure sign of kidney disfunction.
They want to rule out a kidney infection, which we’re testing for right now – we should know tomorrow if that’s the case.
But, you know. I’m a worst case scenario planner. Puck is 14, and though that’s not ridiculously OLD, it’s old enough that I need to start accepting that he’s not going to be here with us forever.
I didn’t realize just how hard this would hit me emotionally. Puck has been really my only constant since I graduated college. I’m having a hard time with the idea that it was a life-span ago. (Albeit a cat’s life span, but still. It’s THAT long ago.)
And then there’s O. Who, when told that Puck was sick, took it on himself to shower the cat with well-meant patting and following around. And comments “he’s a nice kitty, Mommy.”
I know I’m going to have to explain the concept of death to him. Much, much sooner than I’d like. And try and answer every “why?” he throws at me, which is hard enough without my own emotions getting in the way.
I know that it’s best to explain death in simple terms. To explain to O that all living things live and die, that when something dies it’s heart stops beating and it doesn’t need to eat or sleep.
That’s how I’m feeling today.