End of Days
Back in 1992, I adopted a neighborhood cat which I named Jubilee. One night my Dad mistook it for one of the other cats and accidently let it out. After the usual gestation time, somewhere around May 5th or 10th of 1993, she had kittens.
Two of these kittens are the cats I own today, Spot and Magik. Magik was the third one born, while Spot was the fourth. Originally, the intention was only to keep one. Magik chose me, so she's my cat.
Spot was kinda the unwanted red-headed stepchild. My brother insisted he wanted an orange tabby, was going to name him "Parker". That didn't happen due to his girlfriend at the time, so started calling him Opie. My brother then moved out and left him behind. At this point, my dad thoroughly trained him to be the best lapcat ever created and after like two years of random names, came up with "Spot", named after the cat from Star Trek.
A few weeks back I noticed he was getting really skinny. I mean, seriously, they're like 16 years old. I come home every day and check to see if they're alive. This time, though, he really was suffering. Started with pooping in random places all over the house (places he even enjoyed sleeping in), then his pee was a little foamy. I check the internet and come to the conclusion he's probably got Feline Chronic Renal Failure (his kidney's are going). One of the signs was dehydration, which I noticed. They also say things like loss of appetite, etc.
I picked up some senior food at the store (we ran out), some stuff to encourage him to drink more, etc. None of these were helping and it seemed like he was now constipated (because he is dehydrated) and his stomach was abnormally large (but rest of him, still super skinny). I talked my Dad into taking him to the vet (after all, it is his cat) for an enema since he clearly can't poop. They hydrated him but said the enema didn't help. They told us he wasn't even constipated. Yeah, right.
It's been a week and he feels backed up as ever, he can't even poop anymore. I'm just trying to make him comfortable as he eats and throws up, because it really has no where to go. The articles online all say he would lose his appetite, but he appears to be starving. Just eating whatever it is we feed him. Except the pumpkin, which would actually HELP with his constipation, it's the only thing he won't fucking eat.
I don't know. I'm at a loss. I want to help him so much, but if the vet can't help, it's just like... make him comfortable for the rest of his days, you know? He'll definitely be gone by the end of the month. I hope that my Dad finds him and not me when he passes. They have been with me for over half of my lifetime. They were born the first year I met my best female friend, Marie. And I know, they're old. They're like 80+ in cat years. That's a pretty good life! Every time I imagined when Oz would beat him up, it was like a 20 year old punk in a backwards cap suckerpunching an elderly man. That's kinda how it works around here I suppose.
So if anyone wants to pay a visit to Spot this weekend or soon, let me know. It'll probably be the last time you'll see him. The end is nigh.
EDITED TO ADD: Okay, the vet wasn't completely lame. She called to check on him today and my Dad came home with some enema medicine, so I think that's actually working a little bit.
Two of these kittens are the cats I own today, Spot and Magik. Magik was the third one born, while Spot was the fourth. Originally, the intention was only to keep one. Magik chose me, so she's my cat.
Spot was kinda the unwanted red-headed stepchild. My brother insisted he wanted an orange tabby, was going to name him "Parker". That didn't happen due to his girlfriend at the time, so started calling him Opie. My brother then moved out and left him behind. At this point, my dad thoroughly trained him to be the best lapcat ever created and after like two years of random names, came up with "Spot", named after the cat from Star Trek.
A few weeks back I noticed he was getting really skinny. I mean, seriously, they're like 16 years old. I come home every day and check to see if they're alive. This time, though, he really was suffering. Started with pooping in random places all over the house (places he even enjoyed sleeping in), then his pee was a little foamy. I check the internet and come to the conclusion he's probably got Feline Chronic Renal Failure (his kidney's are going). One of the signs was dehydration, which I noticed. They also say things like loss of appetite, etc.
I picked up some senior food at the store (we ran out), some stuff to encourage him to drink more, etc. None of these were helping and it seemed like he was now constipated (because he is dehydrated) and his stomach was abnormally large (but rest of him, still super skinny). I talked my Dad into taking him to the vet (after all, it is his cat) for an enema since he clearly can't poop. They hydrated him but said the enema didn't help. They told us he wasn't even constipated. Yeah, right.
It's been a week and he feels backed up as ever, he can't even poop anymore. I'm just trying to make him comfortable as he eats and throws up, because it really has no where to go. The articles online all say he would lose his appetite, but he appears to be starving. Just eating whatever it is we feed him. Except the pumpkin, which would actually HELP with his constipation, it's the only thing he won't fucking eat.
I don't know. I'm at a loss. I want to help him so much, but if the vet can't help, it's just like... make him comfortable for the rest of his days, you know? He'll definitely be gone by the end of the month. I hope that my Dad finds him and not me when he passes. They have been with me for over half of my lifetime. They were born the first year I met my best female friend, Marie. And I know, they're old. They're like 80+ in cat years. That's a pretty good life! Every time I imagined when Oz would beat him up, it was like a 20 year old punk in a backwards cap suckerpunching an elderly man. That's kinda how it works around here I suppose.
So if anyone wants to pay a visit to Spot this weekend or soon, let me know. It'll probably be the last time you'll see him. The end is nigh.
EDITED TO ADD: Okay, the vet wasn't completely lame. She called to check on him today and my Dad came home with some enema medicine, so I think that's actually working a little bit.