Long Ass Post about Sushi
Here’s what is going on with Sushi. * = every time I feel guilty for being a bad pet mom… In the immortal words of John Crichton: woulda, coulda, shoulda.
Sush has always been a puker. I just kind of accepted that - my cat pukes for attention. Now I don’t know if that is irresponsible, but if we had run her to the vet every time she yacked, we would have been not only labeled hysterical parents (or crazy cat people) but we would also be bankrupt and homeless. So when she began to lose a bit of weight,* Bruce and I thought she was just FINALLY getting older and evening out in her weight (she was quite the bellylicious one for many years there.) But then she stopped eating with the boys - she would just wait until they were done. Fair enough, I thought. She doesn’t want to fight them for access to her bowl. I can respect that.*
Then she started getting really skinny.* I got worried and took her to the vet. Not being a doctor of any variety, I hadn’t noticed that she was jaundiced and feverish* - that’s when our vet told me she was suffering from liver problems. They took blood (I think Sush took as much of theirs as they did of hers - she’s NOT a fan of needles) and told me that we could have her hospitalized so they could treat her with fluids (IV drip - more needles in the Snoosh)* or we could learn to do it ourselves (more needles in the Snoosh, from the people she trusts and loves.)* She might recover, she might not.
Bruce and I had discussed it before we knew what was wrong, and decided we wanted Sushi to be happy and comfortable and if necessary die as she lived - happily doing her own thing.* We didn’t want to be invasive and ruin her quality of life so she MAYBE get better OR could die in a hospital. We both agreed that if it got to the point where she was obviously suffering or too weak to move around, we would take her to be euthanized.* She has always been our roommate, going about her business and running her own life. So now we had to put our “quality of life” money where our mouths were. The vet said we could feed her and hydrate her by mouth if she would take it, and I agreed to do that. I took a couple of cans of easy to digest food and a feeding syringe and some antibiotics and went about my business.
This doctor’s appointment was in the beginning of May. I cried every day as I hysterically monitored her for signs of further deterioration. Sushi accepted the feeding for about a week then began vomiting again, so I (again) tearfully accepted that this was the way it would be, that we should just make her feel comfortable and loved and wait for the day to have her put to sleep. By the way, do you know how difficult it is for a layman like myself to determine when a cat like Sushi is being lethargic? All she ever does is hang out and sleep - the only difference is that she’s not eating.
So we waited. And waited. And she got thinner and thinner but still, every time my heart stopped beating for a moment because I thought her time had come, she would carefully get up, stretch, go ”brao?” in her way, and wander over to the cat tree and start sharpening her claws.
Then last Friday night, I was puttering around before bed and saw her amble over to the boys’ food bowls and start trying to eat kibble. I think it was difficult for her, but the intention was there - SHE WANTS TO EAT. I gingerly fed her about 3 CCs of food (didn’t want to freak out her system and have her start heaving it all back up - I wanted to keep that shit where it belongs.) She kept it down. The next morning, I fed her more. So far so good - she has kept it all down. I have worked my way up to 36 CCs of food a day over the weekend and she hasn’t puked once. She’s even fighting me feeding her again - she’s feeling stronger. So who knows where the saga will end. All I know is that she’s still here for now and still doing her thing.
I have stopped using the asterisks because the past few weeks has just been a non-stop whirlwind of guilt and what if. How could I have prevented this? Am I a bad person to not want to force her into a hospital? I also have been forced to admit that we do have financial limitations, and dragging money into it makes me feel like the biggest douchebag that ever walked the earth. It’s not the deciding factor, but it is a factor. Asterisk, asterisk, asterisk.
So that brings you all up to date on what’s been going on and why I have been totally incommunicado. On top of that, I was assigned a project at work that was by far the most difficult store I have had to draw to date, so just keeping my game face on at work drained all remaining energy I had left after all the cat drama. I hope none of you reading this think ill of me for the decisions I’ve made about my little one. I miss you all and am thinking about you.
Sush has always been a puker. I just kind of accepted that - my cat pukes for attention. Now I don’t know if that is irresponsible, but if we had run her to the vet every time she yacked, we would have been not only labeled hysterical parents (or crazy cat people) but we would also be bankrupt and homeless. So when she began to lose a bit of weight,* Bruce and I thought she was just FINALLY getting older and evening out in her weight (she was quite the bellylicious one for many years there.) But then she stopped eating with the boys - she would just wait until they were done. Fair enough, I thought. She doesn’t want to fight them for access to her bowl. I can respect that.*
Then she started getting really skinny.* I got worried and took her to the vet. Not being a doctor of any variety, I hadn’t noticed that she was jaundiced and feverish* - that’s when our vet told me she was suffering from liver problems. They took blood (I think Sush took as much of theirs as they did of hers - she’s NOT a fan of needles) and told me that we could have her hospitalized so they could treat her with fluids (IV drip - more needles in the Snoosh)* or we could learn to do it ourselves (more needles in the Snoosh, from the people she trusts and loves.)* She might recover, she might not.
Bruce and I had discussed it before we knew what was wrong, and decided we wanted Sushi to be happy and comfortable and if necessary die as she lived - happily doing her own thing.* We didn’t want to be invasive and ruin her quality of life so she MAYBE get better OR could die in a hospital. We both agreed that if it got to the point where she was obviously suffering or too weak to move around, we would take her to be euthanized.* She has always been our roommate, going about her business and running her own life. So now we had to put our “quality of life” money where our mouths were. The vet said we could feed her and hydrate her by mouth if she would take it, and I agreed to do that. I took a couple of cans of easy to digest food and a feeding syringe and some antibiotics and went about my business.
This doctor’s appointment was in the beginning of May. I cried every day as I hysterically monitored her for signs of further deterioration. Sushi accepted the feeding for about a week then began vomiting again, so I (again) tearfully accepted that this was the way it would be, that we should just make her feel comfortable and loved and wait for the day to have her put to sleep. By the way, do you know how difficult it is for a layman like myself to determine when a cat like Sushi is being lethargic? All she ever does is hang out and sleep - the only difference is that she’s not eating.
So we waited. And waited. And she got thinner and thinner but still, every time my heart stopped beating for a moment because I thought her time had come, she would carefully get up, stretch, go ”brao?” in her way, and wander over to the cat tree and start sharpening her claws.
Then last Friday night, I was puttering around before bed and saw her amble over to the boys’ food bowls and start trying to eat kibble. I think it was difficult for her, but the intention was there - SHE WANTS TO EAT. I gingerly fed her about 3 CCs of food (didn’t want to freak out her system and have her start heaving it all back up - I wanted to keep that shit where it belongs.) She kept it down. The next morning, I fed her more. So far so good - she has kept it all down. I have worked my way up to 36 CCs of food a day over the weekend and she hasn’t puked once. She’s even fighting me feeding her again - she’s feeling stronger. So who knows where the saga will end. All I know is that she’s still here for now and still doing her thing.
I have stopped using the asterisks because the past few weeks has just been a non-stop whirlwind of guilt and what if. How could I have prevented this? Am I a bad person to not want to force her into a hospital? I also have been forced to admit that we do have financial limitations, and dragging money into it makes me feel like the biggest douchebag that ever walked the earth. It’s not the deciding factor, but it is a factor. Asterisk, asterisk, asterisk.
So that brings you all up to date on what’s been going on and why I have been totally incommunicado. On top of that, I was assigned a project at work that was by far the most difficult store I have had to draw to date, so just keeping my game face on at work drained all remaining energy I had left after all the cat drama. I hope none of you reading this think ill of me for the decisions I’ve made about my little one. I miss you all and am thinking about you.