(no subject)
Socks AKA The Baconator is dead of, funnily enough, heart failure. We've lived together for a little more than ten years.
Apologies in advance if this is incoherent. I can't keep my head straight right now.
Last month she developed lumps on her neck. When they didn't look better after a week or so I took her to Rockacres Veterinary Clinic, they told me the lumps were probably tumors and gave me antibiotics to give to her in case it was an infection instead. That was last week. Since she started the antibiotics she ate less and less, I couldn't even coax her to do more than lick the surface off a can of cat food. She was still moving around fine and the lumps had stopped bleeding so much and I hoped she might just be sneaking food when I wasn't looking. Last night she took her antibiotic with suspiciously little fuss. Eric brought her into my room and laid her on the bed and she wouldn't move. I picked her up to try to get her to sit and eat and she just flopped back over. We took her out to the living room and Eric gave her water and stayed up with her all night.
We called Nottingham Pet Clinic as soon as they opened in the morning and after hearing our situation they agreed to take her immediately. Five minutes later we were walking through their door. They took her and said that they'd have to do X-rays and a few other things and that they'd call us as soon as they knew what was going on. I had to start work at ten so they took Eric's number instead. I cried off and on at work. Eric texted me around eleven and said that Baconator had heart failure. I was such a wreck that when I asked my boss, Bill, if I could take my half hour break early so I could go to the vets and see what I could do for her he told me that I could take the rest of the day off. And he gave me a hideous promotional plush pegasus.
The heart failure had nothing to do with the tumors. In fact, it had nothing to do with her being obese either. The heart failure was because of a disease [I'll find the name of it later] that makes the heart rubbery and unable to do its job, even a week before hand the heart can sound like it's perfectly fine; the vet at Rockacres said she didn't hear anything peculiar, just that the heart was beating quickly which we all shrugged off as just being nervous about a vet visit and a car ride. What we saw last night was the beginning of the end, because of poor circulation a blood clot had formed and moved down to her lower back, paralyzing her back legs. Along with blood clots, the disease builds up fluids in the lung because the heart can't pump them out properly. The Nottingham vet said that even with intensive care, she'd never seen a cat live more than a day or two.
I can't remember ever feeling so helpless. It snuck up on me so quickly and there was nothing I could have done to save her. She's the sweetest cat I've ever had. She loved being near people, even when she was so greasy that no one wanted to be near her. She would purr if you just came and sat near her. She purred the whole time she was at the vets even though she wasn't feeling well and she couldn't move and she must have been so scared. The only real solace I've found is the guarantee that the last two months of her life in particular she was lavished with attention and love, and that it made her very happy.
I've never felt justified in shelling out the extra hundred dollars for an individual cremation so I could keep an old friend near me before. This time it's worth it.
Pictures when I start crying less. If you don't already know what she looks like, she's the one in the punk outfit a few posts back.
Pupu keeps waiting by the door. I think she's expecting us to bring her sister home. It breaks my heart.
Apologies in advance if this is incoherent. I can't keep my head straight right now.
Last month she developed lumps on her neck. When they didn't look better after a week or so I took her to Rockacres Veterinary Clinic, they told me the lumps were probably tumors and gave me antibiotics to give to her in case it was an infection instead. That was last week. Since she started the antibiotics she ate less and less, I couldn't even coax her to do more than lick the surface off a can of cat food. She was still moving around fine and the lumps had stopped bleeding so much and I hoped she might just be sneaking food when I wasn't looking. Last night she took her antibiotic with suspiciously little fuss. Eric brought her into my room and laid her on the bed and she wouldn't move. I picked her up to try to get her to sit and eat and she just flopped back over. We took her out to the living room and Eric gave her water and stayed up with her all night.
We called Nottingham Pet Clinic as soon as they opened in the morning and after hearing our situation they agreed to take her immediately. Five minutes later we were walking through their door. They took her and said that they'd have to do X-rays and a few other things and that they'd call us as soon as they knew what was going on. I had to start work at ten so they took Eric's number instead. I cried off and on at work. Eric texted me around eleven and said that Baconator had heart failure. I was such a wreck that when I asked my boss, Bill, if I could take my half hour break early so I could go to the vets and see what I could do for her he told me that I could take the rest of the day off. And he gave me a hideous promotional plush pegasus.
The heart failure had nothing to do with the tumors. In fact, it had nothing to do with her being obese either. The heart failure was because of a disease [I'll find the name of it later] that makes the heart rubbery and unable to do its job, even a week before hand the heart can sound like it's perfectly fine; the vet at Rockacres said she didn't hear anything peculiar, just that the heart was beating quickly which we all shrugged off as just being nervous about a vet visit and a car ride. What we saw last night was the beginning of the end, because of poor circulation a blood clot had formed and moved down to her lower back, paralyzing her back legs. Along with blood clots, the disease builds up fluids in the lung because the heart can't pump them out properly. The Nottingham vet said that even with intensive care, she'd never seen a cat live more than a day or two.
I can't remember ever feeling so helpless. It snuck up on me so quickly and there was nothing I could have done to save her. She's the sweetest cat I've ever had. She loved being near people, even when she was so greasy that no one wanted to be near her. She would purr if you just came and sat near her. She purred the whole time she was at the vets even though she wasn't feeling well and she couldn't move and she must have been so scared. The only real solace I've found is the guarantee that the last two months of her life in particular she was lavished with attention and love, and that it made her very happy.
I've never felt justified in shelling out the extra hundred dollars for an individual cremation so I could keep an old friend near me before. This time it's worth it.
Pictures when I start crying less. If you don't already know what she looks like, she's the one in the punk outfit a few posts back.
Pupu keeps waiting by the door. I think she's expecting us to bring her sister home. It breaks my heart.