The cat hasn't responded to the symptomatic treatment and is in currently on the hassock in the living room, dying.
It's been an emotional ride in the last 15 hours or so because I've had to admit that I can't fix him. My brain keeps looping on the idea that if I he dies and I didn't try X or Y it will have been my fault. Snake has been helping me decode things the vet said. I heard them all with hopeful ears, but really, truth be told, he was saying, "There's nothing to be done. Let's try these shots to get him his appetite back." That worked during the course of the treatment, but it didn't address whatever hidden thing is actually killing him. The bloodwork showed nothing, the vet could feel no tumours. His heart and lungs were already doing funny things last week when the vet saw him and now that the treatment is over, he has resumed the job of dying. We were just animating the corpse.
His breath is growing more and more laboured. He doesn't seem to be in any pain. He is very focussed. He looks out the window a bit and then lies down and works at breathing. We just spent an hour sitting with him, remembering the cool things about his life and scratching his head the way he likes.
The idea of putting him in his hated crate and dragging him through the cold to the clinic that terrifies him is the most inhuman thing I can imagine. What? So they can strap him down and x-ray him? So they can put him in a cage with an IV? So that we can institutionalize his death?
And he doesn't need a "shot" to put me out of my misery.
No, he's dying which is part of his life and, surprise, surprise, I can't save my creatures or loved ones or anyone from dying.
It's been an emotional ride in the last 15 hours or so because I've had to admit that I can't fix him. My brain keeps looping on the idea that if I he dies and I didn't try X or Y it will have been my fault. Snake has been helping me decode things the vet said. I heard them all with hopeful ears, but really, truth be told, he was saying, "There's nothing to be done. Let's try these shots to get him his appetite back." That worked during the course of the treatment, but it didn't address whatever hidden thing is actually killing him. The bloodwork showed nothing, the vet could feel no tumours. His heart and lungs were already doing funny things last week when the vet saw him and now that the treatment is over, he has resumed the job of dying. We were just animating the corpse.
His breath is growing more and more laboured. He doesn't seem to be in any pain. He is very focussed. He looks out the window a bit and then lies down and works at breathing. We just spent an hour sitting with him, remembering the cool things about his life and scratching his head the way he likes.
The idea of putting him in his hated crate and dragging him through the cold to the clinic that terrifies him is the most inhuman thing I can imagine. What? So they can strap him down and x-ray him? So they can put him in a cage with an IV? So that we can institutionalize his death?
And he doesn't need a "shot" to put me out of my misery.
No, he's dying which is part of his life and, surprise, surprise, I can't save my creatures or loved ones or anyone from dying.