The Big Litterbox in the Sky

It's been a while since I've written on this blog, though not from a lack of things to write about. I've moved apartments, my fiance has started her new teaching job, took a week off from work for the first time in god knows how long, etc. But for whatever reason, I simply haven't felt motivated to write about any of that. Well, this week's events have motivated me.

Tuesday morning of this week, after a busy but fruitful 3-day weekend, I woke up as usual to get ready for work. Well, actually, I was awakened by a startling sound, but it was generally around the time I usually get up. I looked over the edge of the bed to see what had caused the commotion, only to find my two cats sitting there. I'd figured they'd gotten into a tussle or somesuch and was about to go back to sleep for that all-important extra five minutes of snooze-button-sleep, when I noticed that the cat who is usually being chased wasn't running away. In fact, she was staring at the other cat with a great deal of confusion and concern (as far as I could tell by her rabid sniffing and dilated eyes). My attention was immediately drawn to my other cat, Pampers, who looked more panicked than I had ever seen him. And rightfully so - he could apparently only walk backwards.

I called him and he somehow managed to jump up onto the bed, only to fall back off as he stepped backwards off the edge. Given his pre-existing kidney disease (he has kidney dysfunction) and the possibility of poisoning, I rushed out of the house and brought him to the nearest hospital. The doctor immediately took him in and put him on fluids to try and stabilize him while they waited for the results of the bloodwork and urinalysis. I stayed at home, working, so that I could be close by in case the need should I arrise... I had a very bad feeling about what was going to happen.

The doctor told me that I would need to come back and pick him up at 5 pm. So, when the time rolled around, I got the little guy from the doctor's and brought him straight home. The doctor told me that so far, the tests had been inconclusive, but they were still waiting on more results. It was still too early to tell whether or not he was in any immediate danger... He was looking better. His eyes were no longer dilated and he was able to move around normally, for the most part. He was still having trouble turning - he would try backing up a little bit first - but was able to balance on his hind quarters. Thinking (or hoping) that the worst had passed, I gave him a great big hug and proceeded to feed him some of his favorite foods: cold cut ham slices and fried chicken. My fiance came home and was relieved to see that he was doing alright, and we showered him with love.

Later that evening, my subordinate called me to scream at me about how I was irresponsible for taking the day off "just because my cat was sick," and got into another heated, 2 hour long argument. In the end, she apologized for overstepping her bounds and it ended amiably, but the whole time, Pampers had been staring at me from the doorway of the bedroom. About 15 minutes from the end of the conversation, he disappeared, and I heard him meow a few times, and knew that he was in distress. After I hung up the phone, I found him cowering in the corner of the bathroom, trying to hide himself from everyone. Cats prefer to die in dark secluded areas, so I knew that this wasn't a good sign.

I brought him with me into the living room and put him on my lap, trying to encourage him to sit up and move. I caressed him, talked to him, and generally tried to get him to play with his toys (read: the twisty things you use to tie cables together) and eat some more ham. Nothing worked. He started to not be able to support himself on his legs and became increasingly lethargic. I stood him upright, but his paws remained in the same position as they were, rather than trying to correct himself to balance. I grabbed a bunch of towels, padded the kitty carrier, and rushed him to the emergency vet clinic in Palo Alto.

The doctor there was alarmed at his rapid degradation, and put him on a diluted fluid drip overnight, as for some reason, his sodium had skyrocketed to unbelievable heights. The doctor said that there was a large potential for lasting brain damage, so they needed to balance him out, but doing it too quickly could potentially result in an edema, which would be equally damaging. There was nothing we could do but wait. (I'd asked the doctor if the ham or chicken could have caused it, but he said that it was very highly unlikely, as I'd only given him less than a single bite of each.) We put him into the vet's cage, pet him and told him soothing words, and gave him a kiss goodnight. That would be the last time my fiance saw him alive.

We got home at 2am, exhausted. I was to go back to the clinic to pick him up and return him to the original vet, as the emergency place closed at 8 am and they offered no 24 hour care. I lied in bed thinking about him and hoping that he would pull out of whatever it was that was hurting him. I slept maybe an hour...

When I picked him up in the morning, he had faded even more. He hardly had the strength to react to anything. The night before, when they inserted the catheder into him, he screamed like a banshee and fought with all his might. This morning, however, he barely picked his head up to greet me as they brought him out to me. My cat... the cat who *never* failed to greet me at the door every day when I would come home from work... the cat who *always* came when I called... looked as if he didn't recognize me. I fought back the tears and raced down the highway to bring him to the vet.

They immediately put him back on fluids and told me they would call me as soon as they got the rest of the lab results or if anything definitive happened. At 11 am, as I sat in my cube at work, they called me to tell me that I needed to bring him to the clinic in San Mateo where they had on-site lab equipment and internists who could help him. He was fading fast and they couldn't figure out why. He had pretty much gone completely comatose. I rushed out of the office to transfer him yet again. After picking him up, I got stuck in traffic, but thinking back, I'm glad I did. At the time I was worried about him being away from the doctors for so long, but it gave me an extra 15 minutes to talk to him, sooth him, and pet him. I poured my heart out to him, thanking him for all the years we had together, and talked to him about all the times we rode in my car together (despite being a cat, he actually enjoys car rides). I sang him a few songs, put a towel over his cage to keep the sun out of his eyes (he couldn't blink anymore), and stroked his cheeks and neck, as I had done nearly every day for the last 11 years.

I arrived at the specialist clinic, and was immediately greeted by nurses who took the cage and ran him into the back. I shouted out, "Hang in there buddy!!" as they took him into the intensive care area. I never saw him again.

The doctor sat me down to explain all the things they planned to try before giving up hope. Part of me wanted to just let him go, but I owed him this much. He wasn't in pain as far as the doctors could tell, so I needed to try. Despite the looming $4000 bill, I needed to do everything I could to save my little buddy.

I went back to the office and tried to keep my mind off him. But, at 5:08 pm on Wednesday evening, the doctor called to tell me the bad news. He had siezed and stopped breathing. He went quickly and quietly, under the watchful care of 3 nurses and the doctor. I lamented the fact that I wasn't there when it happened, but I was happy he wasn't alone. He's always hated vets, but I'm hoping he made an exception this time.

I had raised Pampers since the day he was born. His mother followed me home one day from school in my last year of high school, and she gave birth to 4 kittens in our garage. I selected Pampers from the litter and took him with me to Cal, when I left for college. When we were in the moving van, I had put him in a cage to keep him from getting in trouble, but he screamed the whole time. I let him out so he could explore and calm down, but he climbed up onto my shoulder and fell fast asleep. Since that day, my shoulder became his favorite place to relax.

I'd never single-handedly raised a pet from birth to death until Pampers, and it drastically increased the pain I felt when I lost him. He got me through some of the hardest years of my life... The time I was living with my ex who was bipolar - she had gone through an exceptionally bad episode, right before my father called me long distance to tell me he was going to commit suicide because my mother had left him... I couldn't handle it. As I laid there, curled up on the floor crying to myself, Pampers had walked up to me and sniffed my face. He began rubbing his face on mine, and in the process, left several huge streaks of some of the smelliest drool I'd ever experienced. Then he showed me his ass. I sat up, hugged him, and told him that he had the stankiest breath I'd ever known.

I owe a lot of who I have become, as an adult, to that cat, as strange as it may sound. He had been my best friend for the majority of my adult life, and it had become impossible to imagine a day when he wouldn't be there anymore. I know a lot of this sounds melodramatic, but it is sincerely how I feel.

Well, it's been nearly 2 days since he passed away, and a day since I said my final goodbyes (we decided to have him cremated), but it still hasn't completely sunk in. There is a gaping hole in my life right now, and the apartment feels empty. While I can certainly function and even still laugh and smile when I need to, if left to my own devices, I find myself blankly staring into space, not thinking about anything at all. I know it will pass... I know I will move on and will have many other great pets in the future, but I don't know if any will change my life in the same way he did.

He was just a cat, but he was the best damn cat I'd ever known. Here's to you, buddy, and thanks for everything you did for me. I hope that you felt the same way about me.