You know my cat Dizzy? Not the one that was IN the hospital all last week, but the one that I JUST NOTICED was sick?
She died in the vet's office today.
I cannot believe this.
Before we left for Kansas City last Friday, I noticed that she looked a little lethargic, and told Mick, our magnificent pet sitter, that she might want to keep an eye on her. (Remember, Molly, the other cat, was in the process of running up astronomical emergency room/Christmas break hospitalizations/multiple IV fees due to her severe foot infection.) Mick, like the two of us, noticed the lethargy, but could get her to respond to petting and could get her to eat and drink a little, so we were all still on "guarded" status as of our arrival on Tuesday.
On Tuesday night, she was getting around, sitting in the window and such, and came to get petting from Lee and his buddy Bill, so we were hopeful that whatever it was wasn't too serious. But, yesterday, she didn't come to eat, and when I brought her to her food, only took a bite and then walked away.
I took her to the doctor today, and at first the nice young doctor at Brykerwoods Animal Clinic (best clinic in town, y'all Austinites) diagnosed a urinary tract infection, but was bothered by her labored breathing. He took an x-ray and blood work, and her liver panel came up irregular. He called me to set up an abdominal sonogram to check her liver, and I said fine - but she collapsed on the way into the sonogram room. They tried CPR and intubated her, but to no avail.
Nice Young Doctor did an autopsy - free of charge, because I'm literally awaiting the vet bill of my life for the two cats combined - and found masses of tumors in one of her lungs. So, it was probably cancer that did her in, and we couldn't really have done much for a 14-year-old cat with lung cancer, even if we had picked up on it sooner. There was some consolation in that.
The girls are fine - I don't think they either one actually "get it," even OG - but I'm still recovering from the shock.
Seriously, two weeks ago she was her pesky, irritating self. Yes, she was thinner than in the olden days, but it wasn't horribly noticeable, and she gave absolutely no sign that anything was bothering her up until last week. I feel terrible that I just took her in and left her without giving her a hug and kiss. I mean, I was worried that it was serious, but I was thinking we'd have some time to process this, you know? Give her lots of hugs, take the girls' picture with her, that sort of thing?
Thanks to the advent of digital cameras, I have no pictures to post of my darling girl. I used to take pictures of my cats to use up the last picture on a roll of film, but there's no such thing anymore. I do have some pictures of her, but I'm going to have to scan them, and the scanner stopped cooperating with Old Bessie when I switched to Mac OS X.
So, I understand, in the big scheme of things, it's a cat, and not a person. Many of my friends have suffered powerful losses of people in their lives, and I promise that I understand the difference. But, if you would, please indulge me in a brief eulogy:
Dizzy, you were our best cat. (I know, that's not saying much, as all of our other cats have serious mental problems, but I really mean it.) I never saw you bite or scratch. Even when the girls were trying to pull your ears off of your head, you just sat there and took it.
However, adorable and sweet, you were also a little shit. There was apparently nothing more pointless to you than reading. You were known to run across the room just to jump through my newspaper. The love bites you gave to The Man on his head when he had just washed his hair were absolutely hilarious (to me). And, every so often, you loved to fly down from whatever perch you were on to briefly whale on one of the other cats, who was just happening to walk by. (Completely hysterical to the human watchers; not so much to the little kitty victims. "Dum dum dum, dum dum dum, where's the kibble, dum dum HEY, GET OFF ME! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? AIIEEE!!)
You liked the rough stuff, didn't you, you little petting whore? Couldn't get enough. Twenty solid whacks on the backside in fast repetition was the path to total heaven for you. Nut case. And you just. wouldn't. leave. "Pet me, pet me, PET ME MOOOORE. I'm not DOOOONE."
I'm going to miss you, baby. You'll be immortalized in a posting whenever I can find me a working scanner.
Hug your people and pets, y'all. Take some pictures. Ain't nothing permanent.
To bed with the puffy eyes,