*Facepalm of Epic Proportions*
First off, thanks everyone for the hugs and stuff last post. It was appreciated.
This is not going to read well, so I'll just lay it out.
The brother, perhaps not surprisingly, checked in long enough to figure out he wasn't name beneficiary, and promptly signed her body over to the funeral home (there are people at work looking into giving her a proper cremation and memorial), signed the stuff in her apartment over to, essentially, the State.
...And left her remaining cat to die at Animal Control.
Fortunately, after a week, some help (thank you, Catt), persistence, and some people willing to take my word that I knew the deceased and the cat, I located and got the cat out. It was Lucy, the tortie/siamese that ex and I had adopted in 2002.
She's old, but I had been hoping that she'd come out of it no worse than the UI and respiratory infection AC told me she had.
She wasn't that lucky.
UI tract infection. Respiratory infection of the lungs. The start of renal and kidney failure. And so damn thin that you could see her bone structure.
I'm not an idiot, wasn't even before I took her to the vet on Friday. Several of those conditions take time to get into.
At this point, she's had three antibiotic shots, is on phospherous drops and an antiviral drug, has to have special food for cats with kidney and renal problems...and I have to give her 1.5 L worth of IV drip every other night.
Yes, that's right; I have to hang an IV bag with the tube and needle and everything from the top of a door, stick her with the damn needle and hold her for up to a half hour while the fluid is delivered under her skin. And she's a sweetie, but you know that's gotta hurt. And the vet says she'll probably have to take fluids like that for the rest of her life. Essentially, she's on kitty dialysis.
You shouldn't speak ill of the dead. But I'll tell you this; I am angry and upset, and blaming myself for not taking the cats when I left. She's 15...she shouldn't be this bad off.
This is not going to read well, so I'll just lay it out.
The brother, perhaps not surprisingly, checked in long enough to figure out he wasn't name beneficiary, and promptly signed her body over to the funeral home (there are people at work looking into giving her a proper cremation and memorial), signed the stuff in her apartment over to, essentially, the State.
...And left her remaining cat to die at Animal Control.
Fortunately, after a week, some help (thank you, Catt), persistence, and some people willing to take my word that I knew the deceased and the cat, I located and got the cat out. It was Lucy, the tortie/siamese that ex and I had adopted in 2002.
She's old, but I had been hoping that she'd come out of it no worse than the UI and respiratory infection AC told me she had.
She wasn't that lucky.
UI tract infection. Respiratory infection of the lungs. The start of renal and kidney failure. And so damn thin that you could see her bone structure.
I'm not an idiot, wasn't even before I took her to the vet on Friday. Several of those conditions take time to get into.
At this point, she's had three antibiotic shots, is on phospherous drops and an antiviral drug, has to have special food for cats with kidney and renal problems...and I have to give her 1.5 L worth of IV drip every other night.
Yes, that's right; I have to hang an IV bag with the tube and needle and everything from the top of a door, stick her with the damn needle and hold her for up to a half hour while the fluid is delivered under her skin. And she's a sweetie, but you know that's gotta hurt. And the vet says she'll probably have to take fluids like that for the rest of her life. Essentially, she's on kitty dialysis.
You shouldn't speak ill of the dead. But I'll tell you this; I am angry and upset, and blaming myself for not taking the cats when I left. She's 15...she shouldn't be this bad off.