Things have been a bit rough here of late. As you may have read earlier, my oldest kittie, Sweetie, has been very ill. Upon returning from vacation in mid-August we found her suffering from a respiratory infection. Here eyes were covered in mucus; she was sneezing and wheezing unable to breathe. On top of all of that she had completely lost her appetite. My once fat cat (we called her fluffy because she was very weight conscious and angered easily when she was referred to as being fat) began to drop weight like crazy. I began giving her breathing treatments with a facial steamer. To do this I would place Sweetie and the steamer in the cat-carrier and cover all of the opening with towels to keep the moist heat inside the carrier. After a few days of these treatments she began to breathe more easily and her wheezing began to disappear. She was still not eating though. We began force feeding her a pureed mixture of fresh calf liver, coconut oil, fish oil and a small amount of Kefir. After a couple days of this we noticed that she was picking at the hard food in the communal cat bowl. Since she was eating a bit on her own we stopped the force feeding. During this whole time she would hide out in windows or in my closet hiding and not moving too much. Once she started eating on her own she began walking through the house a bit.
You may wonder why I didn’t take her to the vet. Well, for one thing, from much research I had found out that most cats do not recover from respiratory infections. Sweetie has always hated taking medication and fights it tooth and nail. Then will spit it back up after you turn your back. Her hatred ran so deep that she would foam at the mouth and anally lactate. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like having to deal with that. Beyond that, I knew that there would be a lot of lab work involved and procedures that I couldn’t afford.
Like most animals, Sweetie hates the vet as well. She has just cause. When we first found her she had giardia (you know, what you get when you drink the water in Mexico) and had to go through a series of shots and things being stuck up into places where stuff should only exit the body. She was not a happy camper. But, she did get well and has enjoyed 10 years with us. 10 years where she was fat fluffy and happy. Knowing my kitty and the fact that what was ailing her would only get her on medication and treatments that wouldn’t solve the issue I felt I had to do all that I could to make her last days comfortable. She did begin to recover…until. Yes, the dreaded until.
The until came this past weekend when we had to begin force feeding her again as she was throwing up any food that she tried to eat. She has become increasingly weak. By Sunday she could hardly move. When she tried to walk her hind legs couldn’t keep up and she would end up falling over. By this time she had lost so much weight that even picking her up was painful to me. I could feel and hear her bones rubbing against one another. I hope to God that it didn’t hurt her too badly. Sunday and Monday we kept her in our bathroom with the heat lamp on to try to keep her warm and safe from the other cats in the house (which have actually been trying to keep watch over her). Her breathing has become really shallow and she can hardly hold up her head.
To say that I am torn up on the inside is an understatement. I have cried many rivers for this beloved member of our family. I am crying one now and I’m sure there will be more to come even after she makes her final journey. The worst was when we were trying to clean her up because she cannot stand to get to the litter box. I placed her in the kitchen sink and she just slumped there like a sack of potatoes. She doesn’t like baths but has always tolerated them. Being a long haired kitty she would get one every so often when her hair got beyond her control. So, the kitty is in the sink just lying there looking at me with those pained eyes. My husband had to help me wash her belly as I had to hold her up with both hands. She cried at the touch of a hand on her stomach. I had to hold her under her arms and hold her rear up because she couldn’t take the weight of her hind quarters. I held her for hours in towels because it hurt too much to try and dry her.
Once she was cleaned up a bit I could tell that the end was truly in site. Her kidneys have begun to fail. Her skin was turning yellow as were the whites of here eyes. All I could do was stroke her and tell her how much I love her and what an honor it has been to have her in our home.
I eventually put her on a towel in the bathroom closet. I have no air vents in my bathroom so I knew it would stay warm with the door closed. I left her with food and water. I didn’t bother with a litter box as she wouldn’t be able to climb into it or even get to it for that matter.
This morning she was out of the closet and on the rug in front of the sink. When I put her water bowl in front of her she did drink a little. This is so hard to watch. Her head just bobbed trying to get the strength to hold it steady and take a couple laps of water. This wonderful cat, in her hay days, used to throw back what seemed like gallons of water. She would empty the water fountains every day. Now, she can barely get down three sips.
It killed me to leave for work today. And here I sit typing to get the day to pass. I don’t know what I will find when I get home. On the one hand, I want her suffering over. On the other hand, when my daughters gets home from school I don’t want her to have to face a lifeless Sweetie alone. I wish I could be in two places at once. Rather, just at home as I am no good anywhere else. I have never dealt well with death…especially when it is a helpless animal. I am overly sensitive when it comes to any living creature passing from life. The loss tears at my insides like a separate entity trying to get out. The sense of loss is so strong that I mourn for even those that I have never met or seen before. I know that Sweetie will be with her Maker playing with Squirt but there will be a void left here. Our family will have another member resting eternally under the tree in the front yard. This is not an easy thing for me, my husband or our animal loving daughter. Watching a loved one pass is one of the most painful things there is. The only comfort comes from knowing that she’ll be with Jesus soon and won’t ever have to worry about coughing up another hair ball.
So, let’s try to remember the good times now:
When we first got Sweetie and would give her a bath she would smell like talcum powder no matter what type of soap we used.
She knew how to turn on and off lights and would do so on command (when she felt like it).
She could change the answering machine message and did on one occasion.
She was almost toilet trained (until the Demon cat “Baby” messed that up). She would cover her movements with toilet paper in the toilet trap contraption and would even put the lid down when she was done.
Though Sweetie would never cover her leavings in the litter box, she would obsessively scratch any object that was within reach after leaving her litter offerings.
She could unscrew light bulbs and somehow keep them from breaking when the hit the floor.
She did not like Avery Johnson after he left the Spurs. On the day of his trade she found his poster on the dining room floor, scratched out the face and left a litter offering on it.
She liked to shred paper into the thinnest possible strips. She was obsessive about this!
She loved iguanas and would act pretty for them; rolling and doing tricks.
Sweetie liked feet. This cat truly had a foot fetish. She preferred feet to hands on her at any given time.
Sweetie would start licking and grooming herself if you so much as touched her anywhere on her body.
Sweetie didn’t like her feet touched.
Sweetie required two hands to pick up as she weighed almost 20 pounds. You could not pick her up by the scruff of the neck…you’d pull all of her skin off!
Sweetie didn’t like people. If somebody she didn’t know came into the house she would run and hide for days. If you were lucky enough to see Sweetie count yourself privileged…not many people did.
Sweetie would stay by my side when I was sick.
She would leave bruises all over my legs when she would walk on me in bed.
Sweetie didn’t say much except when she was stepped on or hungry. If you stepped on her you would hear a hiss. If she was hungry you would hear a light “mwahhf” type sound.
If you overslept on Saturday morning and missed her feeding she would run up from the foot of the bed and plant herself on your chest, staring at you until you got up to feed her (or you suffocated beneath her weight).
Sweetie did not like being covered with anything. Nor did she like having her picture taken.
She would groom Mali and Maja on occasion and even Squirt when she was with us.
We love our Big ol’ Fluffy. The Sweetie Kittie. The Fluff Butt. Our Sweetie forever. You walked into our hearts the day you ventured into our back yard and sat there while the cat birds dive-bombed you. You chose us to be your family. I hope we were able to make your life happy and comfortable. I hope you know you are loved without exception and will always live in our memories. Thank you for being in our lives. You truly helped me through some of the hardest days I have ever had to face.
Be well and rest in His peace forever.
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