So my husband says that if I write about this, I’ll feel better, but I’m not entirely sure that’s true because I don’t know what to write.
One of my cats is dying. Hell, ALL cats are dying, this one’s just on a downhill path: chronic renal failure, the kidney malfunction associated with bad luck and old cats everywhere.
Yin is 14 years old. That’s apparently the equivalent of a 70-something-year-old person, so it’s not entirely unexpected that he should have issues. Frankly, however, his brother has always been our “issues” cat, so I didn’t see this coming.
I’m sort of OK with the idea that he won’t be around much longer, more OK than random outbursts of tears and total lack of appetite would indicate. What I’m not OK with is that I just don’t know what to do. We were sent home today with antibiotics, blood pressure medicine and CRV cat food, among other gels and pills.
The most confusing bag, however, contains a big bag of subcutaneous fluids and a box of 100 needles.
Sure, I watched the vet give a demonstration of administering the “sub-Q,” and I’m pretty sure I can do it, but I’m not sure if I SHOULD do it. I don’t want to turn my cat into a patient, waking up each day only to await a needle and a bunch of pills. It seems … undignified. Especially if he’s not going to be himself, and he HASN’T been himself in a couple of weeks. He used to make every step I made, spend at least half the night sleeping beside me and bound upstairs every morning at 5:15 to wake me up. Now, he lives in the kitchen. Preferably on top of the refrigerator. I might add that he jumps on top of the refrigerator himself, so it’s not a mobility issue, just a lunatic issue. He’s always been a bit of a mad hatter.
I never thought I would miss my 5:15 wake-up meow, but I find myself wide awake at 5:20 every morning, wishing he would scamper up by my pillow and voice his discontent right next to my ear (he totally knows what ears are for). I’ve realized that I’m even going to miss the scratches on my arms, just because I’ve gotten so very used to them (Stockholm syndrome + bad cats go hand in hand).
OK, maybe I do feel slightly better. But I still don’t know what to do. Other than text message my mom because I didn’t tell her about the cat this weekend because I didn’t want to send us both on an apocalyptic crying fit that would pretty much screw up both days for everybody.
Being a grownup sucks. Being a control freak faced with an array of decisions with uncertain outcomes sucks even more.
Entirely Adequate 
So sorry to hear about this. My mother (a former nurse) has had a DNR order in place for over a decade just in case it ever comes up. Every time I think about that I bounce back and forth between relief that it’s out of my hands and horror that she’s giving up in advance.
“Being a grownup sucks. Being a control freak faced with an array of decisions with uncertain outcomes sucks even more.”
Yeah, parenthood slaps me around with that particular fish far too often.
The idea that I’m in completely in charge of the welfare of another living being is simply terrifying.
You’re the expert on your cat. If your heart is telling you it’s time, then it’s time.
We just lost our dog of 15 years. I found her at breakfast time last Friday morning. I really wish I would have controlled her last moment with us.
It’s a very hard call, I know, and my advice is worth what you’re paying for it. But if you’re getting that vibe, I’d say listen to it. Good luck and hugs.
Thanks. He’s doing OK for now. I just want to avoid keeping him around just for my sake instead of his. He’s a fun-loving cat, so I figure there shouldn’t come a point when he’s not having that much fun.
I’m so sorry about your dog. Animals are fantastic, but they always end up breaking your heart.
“The idea that I’m in completely in charge of the welfare of another living being is simply terrifying.”
It should be. If you didn’t take it very seriously you wouldn’t be worthy of it, but if he’s 14 you’ve already done an admirable job.
You know him and you know yourself. Whatever call you make, don’t let the time you have left be marred by regret or second guessing. Do what you think is best; that’s all any of us can do.
*hugs* My parents just put down the dog we got when I was 14, the one I so desperately campaigned for. Surviving him are two geriatric cats (one diabetic, one with kidney problems). It’s never an easy choice, all you can do is what seems in the best interest of the animal–follow their lead if you will. My thoughts are with you.
Ahh, I’m sorry. I went throught hat last year with my cat. It is hard. I chose not to make her a patient, it was just too hard on everyone involved. Even that decision was so terribly difficult. You will second guess yourself no matter what but know that you are not alone in your decision. You’ll miss him, that’s for sure. We’ve had to do it both ways, wait too long and let them suffer too much, or put them down to keep your memories of them closer to the true-selves they were. Neither one is any easier than the other. If they die in their sleep, you don’t get to say goodbye. Whatever you decide, it is your decision and don’t let anyone else tell you is was wrong. It wasn’t their pet. It’s yours.
[…] received tons of kind, helpful advice from a lot of people recently regarding some difficult decisions my husband and I had to make about our cat, Yin. The statement that stayed with me day and night, […]