Say Goodbye.May 2, 2012 at 10:36 am | Posted in Heartbreak, My life | 20 Comments
Over the past few years we’ve had some health scares with Puck.
First there was the peeing on the carpets when O first came home, that lasted for 6 months and makes it so our house reeks of cat pee when it gets hot.
Then the low blood sugar. Which we thought was cancer but nothing ever showed up on ultrasound or x-ray.
Then we thought he had kidney disease. Which turned out, really, to be a bladder or kidney infection of some kind which cleared up with antibiotics.
In fact, after that shot, he was eating GREAT, put on weight for the first time in a couple of years, and looked so much healthier. I thought, hey, great, we’re doing fine!
So we’ve been joking that he seems to be going through his nine lives pretty well, and had, you know, at LEAST 5 more to go through before we had to worry.
His luck, it seems, is running out.
He hasn’t eaten, not really at all, for the past three weeks.
The first week I assumed it was kidney issues and dehydration and/or constipation, so I took him to the vet to get him looked at. The vet told me that he was probably dehydrated, yes, but he wasn’t constipated. He just wasn’t eating.
Labs came back all normal. No kidney disease.
So I remarked to Charlie, hey, okay, there’s nothing WRONG with him. Great, right?
Except, you know, he’s still not eating. And he’s fallen a couple of times trying to jump on our bed, enough that we had to put a roughneck at the foot to help him. He’s fallen off the couch a couple of times too.
And more awful? When we are sleeping at night, his stomach is making these AWFUL sounds. Gurgling. Growling. It sounds like his guts are twisting like a bunch of worms in there. And it’s loud enough that it wakes us up at night.
Another two weeks of this, and I was worried enough that I made an appointment to bring him back to see the vet.
He had lost 1.5lbs in two weeks.
And the vet said to me, man, he’s presenting like a cat with cancer. She used some term for what he looked like – skin and bones, essentially – and told me that we really needed to try and incent him to eat as much as we could. That she’d do more tests to diagnose cancer, but he was kind of too fragile right now.
We gave him fluids. Did an antibiotic shot, you know, just in case this was some sort of bug. Started him on prednisone at the vet’s recommendation, since that will help make him stronger AND stimulate his appetite.
Brought him back the next day for another prednisone injection and they gave him an appetite stimulant pill as well.
I’ve given him tuna in oil, tuna in water, treats, tried people food I think he might like (cream cheese, regular cheese, peanut butter).
Nothing. It’s like he WANTS to eat, but he takes a couple of bites and then either loses interest or walks away.
And last night and today he hasn’t even tried.
It’s awful. Last night, I begged him, my throat thick with tears, eat, please eat. Please. Just take a bite.
I spoke with his vet last night, too. She told me, we both know that this is really bad. She told me that if this doesn’t turn around, we’re likely looking at the end. That he’s starving himself. That even though he doesn’t seem to be in pain now, we need to keep an eye out.
I don’t want him to suffer. He’s been my constant for 15 years now, seen me through so much change in our lives, that he’s earned the right to comfort.
But man. This is so much harder than I thought it would ever be. For all my complaining about his yowling at night, the early morning wakeups for food, the peeing on our rugs, the hairballs and puke and cleaning the litterpan…
… he’s been with me for 15 years now. I love him.
Charlie and I had the halting conversation about The End this morning. The vet and I are supposed to talk on Friday, so I’m hoping we can limp along until then. I am not home tonight or tomorrow night – am helping my best friend with child care this week – and I selfishly want one more night on the couch with him.
I guess I’m hoping, really, that he’ll turn this around and magically reach into his bag of lives and pull another one out.
I don’t know how to say goodbye.