She's gone.
She became unresponsive over the course of the day. Lut called me at 4:30 to say she was convulsing. We took her to vet. She was comatose in my arms, eyes open, nothing there. The vet said that this was it, there was nothing left to do for her. They put her to sleep while I petted her. I don't think she ever knew I was there.
I'd thought about staying home today because of her. I wish I had. Not that it would change anything.
Thank you to everyone who commented on my last post. I appreciate the sympathy.
Goodbye, Ash, my beloved lapkitty. I'll miss you always.
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Date: 2011-09-09 10:06 pm (UTC)We've lost our cat this year - he died of meningitis. For the whole six months since the disease got in and till the end he's been staying at our home. We did call a vet regularly, but we never got Murzik to a clinic, doing everything ourselves - injections, dropper etc, right on the kitchen table. I even fed him through a large syringe (we had to do it because from a certain point he refused to eat). Maybe it's not what civilized people should do in such a situation - some might say we doomed our pet the moment we decided to keep him at our place instead of entrusting him to professional care, but I still think it was the best we could do. Given his age, the seriousness of the disease there was virtually no hope - treatment would only prolong the suffering. True, we didn't give him that additional couple of months, but at least we gave him the chance to die at home, where everything smells and looks familiar and dear, and not within some cold sterile walls far from people he loved. When he passed away he was lying upon my mother's couch, on my plaid.
I've almost gotten over it now (truth to be said, those six months have been so exhausting that when it all came to an end it was a relief to some extent), but at the time I felt like my heart has been torn out of my chest. I can't forget the day when he disappeared and we couldn't find him and even began to think he somehow sneaked through the front door and ran away, and then, after turning the entire apartment upside down we found him, all shrunk, squashed in, behind a cupboard (the one that stands on a floor, I mean), which we didn't think even had any fillable space between its rear side and the wall - his head facing towards the stove standing alongside - away from light - from us when we saw him. And it wasn't the only time he hid; during his last weeks (while he still could move on his own) he's been compulsively sticking himself in the most narrow corners - and not in a cute, cave-exploring way, like when he was healthy, but gloomily and apathetically, getting there very quietly and sitting absolutely silent and motionless. I couldn't bear watching him behave like this. It looked like he was trying to bury himself, sparing us the burden...
Before those days I didn't acknowledge just how much I really cared for that bratty, noisy bastard. I will always miss him, too.
I (suppose I) know what you feel and I'm terribly sorry :(
sorry for double post
Date: 2011-09-09 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 10:30 pm (UTC)I was aware that it was a lot of trouble, especially going out to the clinic bi-weekly for more supplies. But I never begrudged her it. I didn't want her to go, not even at the end. Not even when she was already gone. *sigh*
Thank you, I appreciate the sympathy.