Let's talk about Princess
I've been wanting to write this post for at least a couple of weeks, to help me put my thoughts in order and make a decision about Princess' future. A couple of days ago something changed to make that decision easier, but I'd still like to talk this through. (TW I suppose - talking about the pending death of a pet.)
Princess Twinkle Toes (her full name) is about 17 years old. That's a guestimate because she was adopted from the Cat Haven as a young adult, and there was a 6 month discrepancy between their guess for her age and our vet's. She's old, basically, but not ancient. We called her Twinkle Toes at first (with the most common nickname "Little Star") but she rapidly earned the Princess title and we eventually officially changed her name to suit.
Princess is not a nice cat. She is not friendly, affectionate, responsive, nor playful. But nor is she evil, angry, destructive, nor dangerous. Her principal talent growing up was the ability to look magnificent on a cushion, and she could tread lightly across a field of pillows with the stability and grace of Audrey Hepburn. It took a long time for her to accept caresses from us, and for most of her life she was definitely Daddy's Girl.
She's fussy and nervous. If she were human I'd have no trouble in diagnosing her with clinical anxiety and depression. She absolutely refused to go outside when we first offered her the option, and so became our first indoor cat. She's always been very fussy about her feet, and when nervous she bites/rips through her nails. She's nervous a lot. One of her more startling medical habits was to projectile vomit upwards of 1 whole metre, far longer than her own body length. She's self-harmed herself to the point of bloodshed by scratching and licking.
Over the years we've also torn out our hair trying to keep her happy. We eventually settled her tummy with hypoallergenic cat food and steroids. We've bathed her ears of excess wax. I clean out her eyes every day (bizarrely she really seems to enjoy this particular ritual). We've fussed and coddled. She's howled and demanded. She eventually stopped the self-destructive behaviour but became extraordinarily clingy. I'm home close to 24/7 these days so lucky for her she has someone to cling to. She only settles into something like tolerant acceptance of life when she is in my arms on the couch and being stroked, and maybe in bed at pillow level right between Husband and I.
Princess has never been a happy cat. She's suffered theatrically her entire life, swooning like a corseted heroine at the first hint of any lack of perfection in her idealised universe. Last February we left her alone in the house for a week (Cally stayed with the vet, and someone came to care for her but she hid) and then introduced the two kittens. We've most certainly never been forgiven for that.
A few months ago she had a bladder infection and was clearly feeling genuinely unwell. We rushed her to the vet and she got two courses of antibiotics and it seemed to clear. But from that moment on, she stopped using the litter tray for wee. Fortunately she went within a few feet of one of the litter stations, so when we put down puppy house-training pads (plastic-backed sheets of absorbent material) in that area she mostly hit them. Mostly. We could at least establish that her wee was free of blood, and assumed that she was perhaps losing bladder control. But after a while of her consistently going in much the same (albeit non-litterbox) places, we figured she'd just decided to stop using the tray because it was rough on her paws. She does wee a lot (usually about 3 big ones per day), and it's likely there's something bad going on.
Which brings us to poo. From the beginning she was never a fan of icky icky poo, and would never dig a little hole, do her thing, have a sniff, then bury it like a good cat. No, she'd just reluctantly get in, do her thing, then walk off shaking out her little silken paws and not looking back. Now she's become a bit more creative about where she poos. I should be grateful that she comes to me for comfort, for several times now she's come to me with a half-born poo under her tail and I've had to grab tissues and deliver it with forceps then wipe her down. It's a bit like being in an episode of Call The Midwife. Usually though she starts in the tray, but runs/leaps away before she's quite done, leaving some in the tray and the rest at various distances from the target.
I do not enjoy all this.
It's clear that age is catching up to her, but in general she's been pretty much her same self - constantly "suffering" with great theatrical aplomb, but not actually suffering medically, as far as we can tell. She's always made plenty of noises but has become even more vocal in her demands for attention, and has a huge vocabulary of whimpers, moans, cries, demands, howls, and god knows what, all offered at a variety of volumes so you never quite know what's coming up next.
She's my baby, and I love her. I can't say I like her, but she's my difficult middle child and it's my job to look after her.
With all the recent back-end problems (she's also very skinny now) we've been discussing when it would be right to let her go. And this is where we get to the crux of my conflict. I would really like to be free of dealing with the misery and the mess, but she's still kind of kicking on much the same way she always has - a tragic drama queen, but not quite ready to abandon the spotlight. I have the power of life and death over her - if I tell the vet that she's had enough and it's time to call it a day, the vet will believe me. Blam, no more Princess.
I fear a conflict of interest. I fear it more than you can possibly imagine. Some nights when she won't stop whinging every couple of seconds I find myself begging her to stop. I feel the urge to shake her to make it all go away. I don't of course (the begging, yes, the shaking, no), but she's been driving me out of my tiny mind and costing mountains of spoons in worry and shit-shovelling and bicarb-sprinkling. I want to be absolutely sure my motives are pure. She should go when she is ready, not just when I can't stand it any more.
A couple of days ago we came home from a short shopping trip to find a couple of piles of vomit. Nothing unusual there, but it was "bad" vomit - no furry sausages (really whoever calls them furballs has no clue), and no just recently eaten food. This was a nausea/sick vom. A few hours later we actually saw Princess throw up a large amount of clear liquid and that too was unusual and worrisome. She's clearly been thirsty and drinking a lot to produce all that wee, but perhaps now her thirst has overcome her body's ability to cope with the volume of liquid.
But it's her change in demeanour that struck me. She's never in her life been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (except possibly when attacking and bloodying one of her housemates), but her whiskers and ears sag a bit more, and she holds her head even lower. She manages to cling to me even more closely, and purr much more loudly than normal. Loud purring may seem like a good idea, but this was a bad purr from a sick cat. In the last day or so she hasn't perked up and has been shaking on and off. Suddenly the equation shifted, and I knew that her time was near.
Dr Laura my preferred vet has been on leave for a month, and won't be back until Friday. Having seen two other vets in that time I very much want to have the next discussion with Laura, who not only knows Princess, but knows and trusts me. Of course I'd take her in if something radical changed between now and then, but I do really want it to be Laura.
Can Princess be treated? Maybe. I expect she has something like diabetes or kidney failure. Her appetite seems good (possibly better than ever) so maybe her borderline thyroid condition has crossed a line into treatability. Maybe she can have regular shots or pills, but that would really distress her, far more than the average cat and I wouldn't want to put her through that. Do I still feel like I'd be murdering an irritating fur child because I'm simply (and literally) tired of her shit? Not any more. Princess has turned a corner and I think it would be cruel to keep her alive for much longer. We'll see what happens on Friday.