死んじゃった
I came home from babysitting at 11:30, all ready to sit down to a real-time rush job, when I suddenly heard the cat yowl. Sadie and I dropped everything and rushed downstairs to find the cat had dragged himself out of wherever he'd been hiding and was now lying on the floor in obvious pain. We hurried to get him some water, taking turns sitting with him and stroking his fur and saying soft, comforting things while trying to figure out what to do.
Finally I emailed work and told them I had an emergency, and then I called a Facebook friend.
It's been years since we've had the cat for regular checkups -- when Jon was out of work we could hardly afford to keep the roof over our heads and food on the table, and the cat seemed healthy, so we let it slide. When he started working again and it seemed that we could afford it, we stayed away out of shame, and fear that we would be chastised for being such shitty pet owners.
This woman was a mom I knew from scouts, back when we were still welcome there. Her family was never wrapped up in whatever clique it was that decided we weren't worthy to belong, and she's always been nice to us. She happened to post something on her Facebook this morning about helping a friend's pet "over the rainbow bridge" -- which is when I remembered that she'd recently become a vet tech -- and in a huge leap of faith, I called the cell phone number she'd conveniently listed on her profile.
When I explained what was going on, she arranged an appointment for us within 45 minutes. When we got there, she was right there with us the whole time, while the vet checked him over. His body temperature was low. He was pale and looked anemic. He was weak, and could hardly stand. There seemed to be some fluid in his abdomen.
When the vet tapped it, it turned out to be blood.
There were a few things, the vet explained, that could cause this. None of them are good, and probably also none could have been detected or prevented with regular checkups.
I felt a little better knowing this, but it was still unspeakably sad to say goodbye to this amazing, sweet-tempered, beautiful cat who's been part of our lives for almost 10 years, and who we frankly expected to be with us for another 10.
Sadie and I stayed with him for a long time. We gave him some water, which he drank. We stroked his fur and tried to get the dust and cobwebs off him, and told him how much we loved him. After it was over, we sat with him a little longer and cried, both of us feeling like it was horribly wrong to turn away and leave him there.
Eventually, of course, we had to. We alternated between tears and numbness on the drive home. I cleared up his dishes and threw away the food he'll never eat. Tomorrow I guess we'll get rid of the litter box.
This day really sucked.
Finally I emailed work and told them I had an emergency, and then I called a Facebook friend.
It's been years since we've had the cat for regular checkups -- when Jon was out of work we could hardly afford to keep the roof over our heads and food on the table, and the cat seemed healthy, so we let it slide. When he started working again and it seemed that we could afford it, we stayed away out of shame, and fear that we would be chastised for being such shitty pet owners.
This woman was a mom I knew from scouts, back when we were still welcome there. Her family was never wrapped up in whatever clique it was that decided we weren't worthy to belong, and she's always been nice to us. She happened to post something on her Facebook this morning about helping a friend's pet "over the rainbow bridge" -- which is when I remembered that she'd recently become a vet tech -- and in a huge leap of faith, I called the cell phone number she'd conveniently listed on her profile.
When I explained what was going on, she arranged an appointment for us within 45 minutes. When we got there, she was right there with us the whole time, while the vet checked him over. His body temperature was low. He was pale and looked anemic. He was weak, and could hardly stand. There seemed to be some fluid in his abdomen.
When the vet tapped it, it turned out to be blood.
There were a few things, the vet explained, that could cause this. None of them are good, and probably also none could have been detected or prevented with regular checkups.
I felt a little better knowing this, but it was still unspeakably sad to say goodbye to this amazing, sweet-tempered, beautiful cat who's been part of our lives for almost 10 years, and who we frankly expected to be with us for another 10.
Sadie and I stayed with him for a long time. We gave him some water, which he drank. We stroked his fur and tried to get the dust and cobwebs off him, and told him how much we loved him. After it was over, we sat with him a little longer and cried, both of us feeling like it was horribly wrong to turn away and leave him there.
Eventually, of course, we had to. We alternated between tears and numbness on the drive home. I cleared up his dishes and threw away the food he'll never eat. Tomorrow I guess we'll get rid of the litter box.
This day really sucked.