my cat died yesterday.
she hadn't been eating for a few weeks.... after a little less than one we took her to a vet. he said that she seemed okay but because i was adamant that she had something seriously wrong with her, he took a few blood tests. later that day my mother got a call from him saying that her kidneys were starting to fail, because of that she had multiple organ infections. also, she was anemic because she hadn't been eating.
the vet said that we caught it soon enough and she would live. she was supposed to start eating again in a few days if we did what he told us to. we had to inject her with fluids through a massive 8 inch syringe that had a needle about an inch long itself. after that we had to force antibiotics down her throat, and make her eat brown goo called felovite for her anemia. monday came and went, so did tuesday. she didn't start eating on her own. we purchased a tool that allowed us to force feed her liquid cat food, which we did for the remaining days we had with her.
yesterday we realized that she wasnt getting better, and the vet didn't listen to me at all when i told him that she could have digested plastic; grocery bags are her favorite snack. my mom had been suggesting an enema for a while now but there weren't any in cedar rapids for sale, so i called a different vet and she recommended a laxative.
we were late feeding her yesterday because the food would just go through her system anyway. i came home early from coffee with a friend to help feed her but every time we would start to give her food she would start hyperventilating and we'd stop. we finally decided to call it quits but by that time my cat was far too worked up.
i could tell that something was wrong immediately, she has been upset through a lot of this, and understandably so, but not like this. she looked terrified. she was panting harder than i'd ever heard her, and her tongue was almost white. she looked at me, looked down, and had a piece of food in her eye that she didn't seem to notice at all. taking it out, i couldn't help but start crying. i sat there petting her through what i knew to be her final minutes as my mom told me to get her water...but water wouldn't help right now. she called for my dad and the three of us watched my cat cry for a few seconds, stretch out her body, and bury her head in my lap.
i didn't stop stroking her as she lay there twitching. my dad offered to take her from me but i said no; i wanted to hold her through this. after she hadn't moved for some time i picked up her limp body and set it on the mantle; that's where she had spent most of her time in the recent weeks.
i had given this situation much thought, especially lately. however, there was always some part of me that felt like she would make it at least five more years. i wanted her to move in with me once i graduated from college and i could take care of her in her old years, no matter how much work it would take. now it seems that no matter what i did, there was no way of saving her. no matter how early i caught her symptoms, she still died. i gave her so much love this summer-- knowing that she had some sort of illness i took her out on the porch almost every day because that was her favorite place to be, away from the other cats on the cool pavement. it appears that no matter how much you think you can help, sometimes it will never be enough.