Small life update
Meet Grouper!
Trout, my darling, darling boy died back in 2014. He was seventeen years old. We'd had a cancer scare in his ear; he flopped down in a different way from usual and a small surface bubble that had appeared in his ear 2 years before had changed shape and discoloured. You don't need to be a vet to know what that meant. I knew it was cancer bringing him into the clinic.
I remember doing dishes one night when I was just back from Japan. It was a Thursday night around 8:20 and the humane society closed at 9 and I made my friend Cory go with me right then. The moment I laid eyes on Trout I knew that was my baby. I was with him to the very end and I held him. I didn't think I could do it; they told me I could take him home and bring him in the morning, but I had nothing to say to him I hadn't said in the past 17 years and though he'd been fine on the weekend, by Wednesday it was obvious that he was dying.
That was May 2014. In August, Minnow went in for routine dental work and came out with a 3-5 month prognosis. Since she was an only cat, we decided to give her all the time she needed. I don't believe in treatment for animals; you can explain to a human why they feel worse to get better but to me quality of life is so much more important than quantity, and to boot the average life expectancy after treatment was 28 days, like the movie. So we bundled her up and took her home. We took her in for two more checkups before deciding what happened happened. The little trooper never gave up an inch. A year later we took her back to the vet and she had beat a 90% mortality rate. It was amazing.
By Friday, Grouper was home.
Trout, my darling, darling boy died back in 2014. He was seventeen years old. We'd had a cancer scare in his ear; he flopped down in a different way from usual and a small surface bubble that had appeared in his ear 2 years before had changed shape and discoloured. You don't need to be a vet to know what that meant. I knew it was cancer bringing him into the clinic.
I remember doing dishes one night when I was just back from Japan. It was a Thursday night around 8:20 and the humane society closed at 9 and I made my friend Cory go with me right then. The moment I laid eyes on Trout I knew that was my baby. I was with him to the very end and I held him. I didn't think I could do it; they told me I could take him home and bring him in the morning, but I had nothing to say to him I hadn't said in the past 17 years and though he'd been fine on the weekend, by Wednesday it was obvious that he was dying.
That was May 2014. In August, Minnow went in for routine dental work and came out with a 3-5 month prognosis. Since she was an only cat, we decided to give her all the time she needed. I don't believe in treatment for animals; you can explain to a human why they feel worse to get better but to me quality of life is so much more important than quantity, and to boot the average life expectancy after treatment was 28 days, like the movie. So we bundled her up and took her home. We took her in for two more checkups before deciding what happened happened. The little trooper never gave up an inch. A year later we took her back to the vet and she had beat a 90% mortality rate. It was amazing.
By Friday, Grouper was home.