Borrowed Time
Apollo had another episode yesterday where he went and hid as if he was getting close to death. We were having a somewhat productive afternoon. I'd brought some art/pictures up from the basement and we rearranged and hung a few things that have sat down there since we moved in. As I was walking back and forth I happened to notice Neelix sitting on the steps going to the basement. He was just looking into the basement and I sensed he was likely observing something.
I found a few piles of puke along the route to a cat tree that is down there, and Apollo's rear end was sticking out of the little house on the bottom of it. He seemed dazed and weary and was laying awkwardly. Of course, our coming down and observing him prompted Neelix to try climbing right into the house with him and poor Apollo got up and climbed inside this wooden box/cabinet thing down there I've needed to dismantle and throw out for months.
He laid in there for about a half hour or so. Looking so weary and out of it. It feels like I've watched this poor cat about to die so many times now. But, after a while he was on his shaky feet and heading back upstairs. Weary, but wanting treats. We monitored him the rest of the evening. He just sleeps most of the time, and I setup the heated blanket and his bed in the hallway bathroom ever since the wall heater in the sunroom died. I feel bad that he spends most of his day alone in there, but I don't think he minds. He likes the peace and quiet I think, compared to having these other cats clowning around and bothering him. Though we now have a space heater on in the sunroom when we are in there, and he'll lay in a bed next to it contently. At least then he can be around us.
He is looking so much thinner now. It's only a matter of weeks I think before he is going to pass. The Doctor told me Thursday that kidney disease is one of "the best ways" to go, and said he didn't think Apollo was in any pain. Still, my only real concern is whether he will just pass peacefully here at home or if we are going to have to go through the horrible ordeal of taking him to a vet to be put to sleep. I don't pray much, but I've begged God to please let this cat pass away with us here. For the cat's sake. I'd rather his last moments not be some terrifying car ride, before being stabbed and stuck by strangers on a cold, metal table.
Apollo is still eating and drinking though. He's always vomited, as all cats do, so I am not so much concerned about his occasional puking. Though I do think in his weakened state it takes a toll on him physically and makes him weak. I was giving him some over-the-counter medication for his arthritis, but one of the side effects is vomiting so I stopped doing so. I may put a bit in tonight's food. When he goes to sit and lay down, he does so very, very slowly so you can tell it likely causes him some pain in that regard.
I thought I had grieved myself out after the ordeal with him around Christmas, but I can feel within me this immense flood of sadness churning and thrashing against a temporary dam I've built inside. I know I will be at peace when he's passed, but to lose such a good pet, and dear companion, is naturally something that would affect even the hardest man. And I am nowhere near as tough as I like to pretend I am.
I found a few piles of puke along the route to a cat tree that is down there, and Apollo's rear end was sticking out of the little house on the bottom of it. He seemed dazed and weary and was laying awkwardly. Of course, our coming down and observing him prompted Neelix to try climbing right into the house with him and poor Apollo got up and climbed inside this wooden box/cabinet thing down there I've needed to dismantle and throw out for months.
He laid in there for about a half hour or so. Looking so weary and out of it. It feels like I've watched this poor cat about to die so many times now. But, after a while he was on his shaky feet and heading back upstairs. Weary, but wanting treats. We monitored him the rest of the evening. He just sleeps most of the time, and I setup the heated blanket and his bed in the hallway bathroom ever since the wall heater in the sunroom died. I feel bad that he spends most of his day alone in there, but I don't think he minds. He likes the peace and quiet I think, compared to having these other cats clowning around and bothering him. Though we now have a space heater on in the sunroom when we are in there, and he'll lay in a bed next to it contently. At least then he can be around us.
He is looking so much thinner now. It's only a matter of weeks I think before he is going to pass. The Doctor told me Thursday that kidney disease is one of "the best ways" to go, and said he didn't think Apollo was in any pain. Still, my only real concern is whether he will just pass peacefully here at home or if we are going to have to go through the horrible ordeal of taking him to a vet to be put to sleep. I don't pray much, but I've begged God to please let this cat pass away with us here. For the cat's sake. I'd rather his last moments not be some terrifying car ride, before being stabbed and stuck by strangers on a cold, metal table.
Apollo is still eating and drinking though. He's always vomited, as all cats do, so I am not so much concerned about his occasional puking. Though I do think in his weakened state it takes a toll on him physically and makes him weak. I was giving him some over-the-counter medication for his arthritis, but one of the side effects is vomiting so I stopped doing so. I may put a bit in tonight's food. When he goes to sit and lay down, he does so very, very slowly so you can tell it likely causes him some pain in that regard.
I thought I had grieved myself out after the ordeal with him around Christmas, but I can feel within me this immense flood of sadness churning and thrashing against a temporary dam I've built inside. I know I will be at peace when he's passed, but to lose such a good pet, and dear companion, is naturally something that would affect even the hardest man. And I am nowhere near as tough as I like to pretend I am.