Simon was young cat given to me by my mother when I moved out. As strange of an idea as it was to give a cat to an apartment with two bachelors, I guess she figured it would teach me responsibility or something. Maybe it was simply because he was young and terrorized their older cat.
Whatever the case, he did provide a lot of entertainment. Always hiding my roommates bowl under the couch every morning, jumping from the 2 story deck onto the roof above the doorway to the apartment and to the neighbors deck, wiggling around in a large box on the table until it fell with him still inside, sitting on pizzas, etc.
He made it through two apartments, three rented houses, and finally to my most recent home. During that span he lived with 5 different people besides myself, many of who knew him by his nick name, Fuzzy Nuts (though he was neutered.)
At only about 8-9 years old he fell ill with heart disease, and it was not diagnosed for sometime. He has been breathing a little strange in October, and a few times he tried to cough something up, but nothing was there. That was somewhat usual, but we really started to notice something was wrong when he was breathing with his abdomen in November. By the time the vet actually had some time for an appointment that I could take him to, it was worse, and it was even worse yet when he left. His lungs were filled with fluid, and I had to take him to an emergency center to get them fully drained and an electrocardiogram. A week and a half later they had to be drained again, and about 2 and a half weeks after that, he was in bad shape again. The diuretics weren’t cutting it.
Many dollars spent, and all I bought him was about another month. It was a Thursday evening, and he wasn’t going to last much longer. It was not an easy decision, but he had to get put down. I was prepared to wait until it got worse, but what would happen when he is dying and its the upcoming weekend? We brought him in the next day when the vet made some room around 11:30.
They said he wasn’t ready to go, and he wasn’t. He had some fight left, but it was only getting worse fast. He didn’t even want to leave his pet carrier. They gave him Ketamine before the IV for the OD of pain meds they use to bring him down. I am guessing this is to prevent some rather unsightly things from happening when they administer the pain meds, but at this point, he was not really there anymore. Then came the injection, and I go no warning that it was starting. I think I was blowing my nose during his final moments. I was rather upset about that. All in all, I do not know that it is worth it to be there for it, and if I was not, the whole Ketamine injection would have probably been skipped.
When all was said and done, I gave him one last pet (more like several), and left the room. They would bill us later, and sent us flowers while we were at home mourning.
My fiancé wants a new cat, and I do as well. However, it is really just not the time. He will not be my cat, the one cat that ever really meant a lot to me. The new cat won’t be used to us nor us to him. I would wind up resenting him for it, and that is not fair. I still keep expecting to see him around the house in his usual places doing his usual things, and seeing some other cat in his place will not make that any better or easier for me.
In due time we will probably adopt another cat, and I had entertained the thought of getting a dog. It was a seemingly perfect idea, as it wouldn’t feel like a reminder or a replacement, but we are not home that much. I cannot make a dog hold it for 10-12 hour days 5 days a week.
Posted on December 18th 2009 in
Life
