Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Ancient Cat, Oh Ancient Cat.

It's been busy, I've been dealing with a lot of stress, working on a lot of things, still not cashing any checks, and would I be a horrible person if I put the cat to sleep? Seriously, it was that kind of day in that kind of WEEK. This and that, call here, do that, call there, lots of staring into the computer screen, and then I ran errands, hit Target, the bank, Publix. Came home, picked up the mail, carried my purchases in, kicked off my sandals at the door...

and skidded in an invisible puddle of watery cat puke on the tile and nearly landed on my ass.

He's back to screaming at night, not eating much all day, then (when offered the exact same food he'd left to dry out and get disgusting) cheerfully cleaning his plate and acting normal, then not eating much and puking, then cleaning his plate - I can't tell what's going on with him.

I'll decide that enough is enough, he has three paws in the grave, and it's time to call a halt to this silliness. As soon as I decide he must be very sick, he suddenly bounces back and eats all his dinner and takes a nice nap on the back of the chair, yells to be let out on the balcony to sunbathe, and doesn't seem to be in any distress at all. I just can't tell. Cats hide their conditions, even from vets. When I took him in last, all the vet could offer was a shrug. He's just old.

And I really, truly don't know what to do. I don't know whether his condition is worsening, whether he's suffering, whether this is just Old Cat Normal and I should just continue to humor it, I just don't know. I don't want to put the cat down just because he's really annoying - even though he is really, really annoying - but at the same time, I don't want to ignore something that might be a sign that he's suffering. He's eating some, though skinny as a rail, with jutting hipbones - though again, he's at least 17 and may be 20 years old. He's using the litterbox, and (here I go, talking about poop again) he's pooping normally. His urine output varies, and it's definitely showing signs of kidney failure (almost odorless, often copious) but again, he's a very old cat.

And the harsh reality of life is, he's very, very old, and I am starting a business and have no spare cash I can justify throwing away for explorations into extreme cat geriatric medicine. I have so many ways to spend money on medical things it ain't funny. Just for starters, I need new glasses in the worst way, Murphy needs dental work, I need to see a dentist myself, and on and on. I'm fine with supporting this old boy in his old age and acting as an old cat nursing home, but I just can't spare the cash for explorations into why he is the way he is. I would rather get Murphy's bad teeth pulled - he has at least a few good years left.

Oh, and as evidence that there is still fight in the little dog - the other night I was working at my "work computer" at the dining room table and heard enthusiastic snorting and scratching behind me, so I got up to investigate. I'd bought a cheap little spare dog bed at the Walmart in Asheville last year, and both dogs used it when they were in the mood. I'm guessing that there was a small rip or weak spot in the cover and some stuffing was poking out, and Murphy suddenly remembered how much fun it was to rip the guts out of anything with stuffing. I turned around to find him happily up to his ears in this weird green fiberfill. The remains of the bed looked like this:



I wasn't mad. I was delighted. It was the best sign of the Bossy Dog, enemy of all dog things stuffed and/or squeaking, that I'd seen in years.

Both dogs are much happier since I started cooking for them instead of buying commercial food. I don't know that I'd want to do this if I had three Great Danes instead of two dogs who together don't weigh 20 lbs., but I'm glad the vet suggested it at our last visit in December.

Oh God, Ancient Cat is walking through the house screaming again.

8 comments:

  1. Anonymous10:22 AM

    End of life decisions can be so difficult, every time I've had to do it I feel so guilty but there are times when it really is the best thing to do - for the animal and for you. We are their guardians. Take care and know that he has had a good life.

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  2. Anonymous11:03 AM

    Don't sacrifice your life for the old cat's.

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  3. Anonymous12:18 PM

    Catherine,
    what a difficult situation. I so dread the day when I will be in your position. I do hope you can take a deep breath and find some clarity on what needs to be done. Higgins has indeed had a good life and has been loved. It's funny--I find I am more willing to "sacrifice my life" for a beloved pet than I am for most people that I know...
    Elizabeth

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  4. Anonymous7:02 PM

    In a lifetime of dogs, and cats, I can remember only ONE who just quietly died of old age. Dear old Angel (a red Peke with temper to match) asked to go outside, walked to her favourite sunny spot, turned round the regulation three times, then flopped down rather suddenly. Mum was startled enough to go and check and Angel had gone in an instant.
    All the rest have desperately needed to be eased to a gentle end, for one reason or another.
    Even if you had it, spending a small fortune at the vet would only benefit the vet, it would do little for Higgins. The vet might be able to give some detail as to the advance of the kidney problems, the joint problems, and he can only understand the cat's mental problems if he has lived with a similar old pensioner.
    As I get a bit further on from the end of Vegemite's looong life, I think I should have sent her home about 4 months earlier than I did.
    If you decide to go that way, you will feel bad about it, you know that, but it is part of the process, and Higgins probably has a lot of aches and pains, and when they are THAT thin they have trouble getting comfy.
    Congatulate Murphy on the defusing of that dangerous IED!

    Gae, in Callala Bay

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  5. Gae, you made me remember Major, the Boxer I grew up with - he died when I was around ten years old. He asked to go out in the yard, howled a little, and laid down and died. One of the poodles just expired quietly in the night. The rest, yes, we had to take action. I prolonged Boris's life at significant expense, and I am not going to do that this time. If Higgins continues the mixed signals for an entire week, I am going to have to take him to the vet. I don't want to ignore what may be a cat in misery to soothe my own guilt about the process. He's at least 17, may be 20, his hipbones are jutting out despite being fed whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He barely eats. He's not okay.

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  6. Anonymous9:28 PM

    These are simply some of the worst decisions we have to make. I look at photos of my former lab, and realized I kept him much longer than I should have. I can see the suffering in the photos now, but couldn't see it then because we were so distraught over his cancer. So no matter what, I commiserate with you. It's a tough decision to make.
    Kimmen

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  7. Anonymous3:11 AM

    You are right -- Higgins is not OK.
    What caught my mother's attention with Angel was the difference to her normal actions -- Angel (the smallest and physically weakest of our dogs) monopolised the most desirable 'real estate' in the yard, the sunniest spot with the best view of the back door. She would normally settle down in a resting, but head up, observant, position.
    She just dropped in a heap, head on the ground, not a sound. What a way to go.....! In charge to the last second. She was a little tyrant and I adored her.
    You know we all know what you are going through with Higgins. Hugs.

    Gae, in Callala Bay

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  8. I don't know what to say that hasn't been said. You aren't bad because you're thinking about letting Higgins finally rest - you're human. It's about the hardest thing we have to do. I know my dog Rex was probably miserable for longer than I thought at the time. You've cared a lot for Higgins, and we all know you'll care enough to let him go when it's time.

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