Bye, Bailey
I don't post often, and the last few posts have been mostly about my poor sick cat, Big Bad Bailey Buddy Boy (when I'm feeling alliterative) or my Sweet Babboo. Sadly, Bailey lost his struggle yesterday; he was scheduled for a test to try to figure out what was causing his weird symptoms, but he deteriorated quickly over the last few days, and by the time I got to the vet's I knew I wasn't going to be bringing him home.
I know a lot of folks have been dealing with sick pets in recent weeks (and while I haven't posted on it, I've been absolutely furious about the ever-expanding pet food recall). If Bailey had first shown symptoms a few weeks instead of a few months ago, I might have suspected trouble with his food. He started losing weight before Christmas, and his toes were unkempt, at first just dirty like he wasn't bothering to groom them, and then his claws got really thick and discoloured. By his first vet appointment, he'd started losing small patches of hair, and he lost several pounds despite being ravenously hungry. His bloodwork suggested slightly elevated thyroid levels which we treated, and the pattern of his hair loss suggested food allergies, so we switched him to a special diet. But nothing helped; he ended as nothing more than bald, scaly, peeling skin over bones. The best explanation is that he had a tumour; apparently tumours on the pancreas can lead to such skin conditions.
I haven't had to deal with the death of a pet since I was 8 years old and sat in the dirt under the porch holding my cat while he died of poison set out by a neighbour. The cat I had as a teenager died of cancer but by then I had moved out and had to be told afterwards by my parents. Bailey is the first cat I've lost as an adult, and he was a very special guy. I saw him as a kitten in a pet store, sick and scrawny and dying of starvation because he wouldn't eat after they sold all his littermates. The other cats in my tribe were brought home to be company for Bailey. He grew into a big old sweetheart, calm and placid and totally laid back; he lived up to the reputation of his breed, ragdolls, who are so named because they're supposed to lie in your lap like a ragdoll (not all do, by the way).
I'm trying not to remember what he looked like when he died, ravaged by months of his own body turning against him. So here's a pic of him in better days:
http://s209.photobucket.com/albums/bb101/chrissie_m/?action=view¤t=bailey.jpg
I know a lot of folks have been dealing with sick pets in recent weeks (and while I haven't posted on it, I've been absolutely furious about the ever-expanding pet food recall). If Bailey had first shown symptoms a few weeks instead of a few months ago, I might have suspected trouble with his food. He started losing weight before Christmas, and his toes were unkempt, at first just dirty like he wasn't bothering to groom them, and then his claws got really thick and discoloured. By his first vet appointment, he'd started losing small patches of hair, and he lost several pounds despite being ravenously hungry. His bloodwork suggested slightly elevated thyroid levels which we treated, and the pattern of his hair loss suggested food allergies, so we switched him to a special diet. But nothing helped; he ended as nothing more than bald, scaly, peeling skin over bones. The best explanation is that he had a tumour; apparently tumours on the pancreas can lead to such skin conditions.
I haven't had to deal with the death of a pet since I was 8 years old and sat in the dirt under the porch holding my cat while he died of poison set out by a neighbour. The cat I had as a teenager died of cancer but by then I had moved out and had to be told afterwards by my parents. Bailey is the first cat I've lost as an adult, and he was a very special guy. I saw him as a kitten in a pet store, sick and scrawny and dying of starvation because he wouldn't eat after they sold all his littermates. The other cats in my tribe were brought home to be company for Bailey. He grew into a big old sweetheart, calm and placid and totally laid back; he lived up to the reputation of his breed, ragdolls, who are so named because they're supposed to lie in your lap like a ragdoll (not all do, by the way).
I'm trying not to remember what he looked like when he died, ravaged by months of his own body turning against him. So here's a pic of him in better days:
http://s209.photobucket.com/albums/bb101/chrissie_m/?action=view¤t=bailey.jpg
