I don't know. Maybe the cat won't die, maybe he will. What I'm sure of is that it's up to him. After days spent with a glaze of absence over his eyes, days in which every breath seemed to take something out of him, Claudius retreated to a corner of the basement. What was strange was that his alertness and personality then returned.
He enjoyed company again, though didn't seek it out. He enjoyed being patted and even purred a bit. He still had no interest in food, though he drank water.
Yesterday, he actually ate a few mouthfuls at one point and then refused later on. I carried him upstairs to join us in front of the TV last night (he weighs nothing!) and he seemed like himself again, though a weaker version of himself.
I carried him back to the basement last night and then found him upstairs again in the morning. He went out and sat on the back steps and when he came in, he ate a little bit (more like licked at the wet food for five minutes). He ate a bit more before I left the house for work and I've left food in his bowl, though I'm sure it will be the dog who will empty it.
So, his life seems to be in his own hands at this point. If he had fluid in his lungs or some infection, he seems to have fought it off. I don't know if he's going to take in enough calories to slow his weight loss. Much more and he's probably at risk for a heart attack. But I feel calmer about the whole thing because I've taken myself off the hook. I don't control his life and death and will accept whatever happens at this point.
Lessons in humility, eh? Thanks for all your kind words and wishes.
He enjoyed company again, though didn't seek it out. He enjoyed being patted and even purred a bit. He still had no interest in food, though he drank water.
Yesterday, he actually ate a few mouthfuls at one point and then refused later on. I carried him upstairs to join us in front of the TV last night (he weighs nothing!) and he seemed like himself again, though a weaker version of himself.
I carried him back to the basement last night and then found him upstairs again in the morning. He went out and sat on the back steps and when he came in, he ate a little bit (more like licked at the wet food for five minutes). He ate a bit more before I left the house for work and I've left food in his bowl, though I'm sure it will be the dog who will empty it.
So, his life seems to be in his own hands at this point. If he had fluid in his lungs or some infection, he seems to have fought it off. I don't know if he's going to take in enough calories to slow his weight loss. Much more and he's probably at risk for a heart attack. But I feel calmer about the whole thing because I've taken myself off the hook. I don't control his life and death and will accept whatever happens at this point.
Lessons in humility, eh? Thanks for all your kind words and wishes.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-04 03:44 pm (UTC)Hugs.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-04 06:31 pm (UTC)Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-04 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-04 11:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 03:45 am (UTC)Poor kitty.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-20 03:49 am (UTC)I'm not an expert in cat death, but, do you remember when my lesbian roommate in TO in 1989 brought home 10 cats and THREE of them died on me within three months? She was at work and I had to do the food-on-the finger feeding for one since I didn't get TOC work every day. The OTHER one, I lightly tossed off my lap one day; a height of about a a foot (cats can take that NP) and splat, his front legs went out on him and he sprawled on his chest. Here I am thinking I killed my dyke roommate's (she was also my landlord) cat! I would surely be evicted.
Turns out three of the cats were riddled with cancer and NOT a meow of pain from any.
I conclude that cats pass away slowly, quietly and anti-socially. I don't know what to say. It's almost as if they are saying "just let me go peacefully and don't hassle me."
Maybe there is a wisdom in that, sad as it is.
CODY