Catharsis in Prose

I suppose I’m writing this for myself more than anything, but it’s my blog, so I can pretty much do what I want for whatever reason.

Back in May, our cat got sick, so we took her to the vet. I wrote about it here.

It’s now almost August, and while things improved for a while, they started going downhill again about 2 or 3 weeks ago. We decided to discontinue her IV treatments since they were obviously not helping anymore. All we were doing was putting her in needless pain to prolong the inevitable. By last week she had stopped eating regularly, and Monday was the last time she ate anything at all. She was getting weaker and weaker by the day.

On Tuesday night, she followed us up to our room and slept on the bed all night. Although she used to do that every night without fail, she hadn’t done it since June. It must have taken everything in her to make it up the stairs.

By Wednesday night she had become so weak that she was barely able to stand. Although she had weighed around 9 pounds at her maximum, she had probably dropped to around 4. She was still bright and alert, but her body was wasting away in front of us.

She was in pain, and we knew it. The Wife and I had a heart-to-heart and knew it was just a matter or time. We had to do the right thing by her.

I called The Wife from the office this morning and asked her if the appropriate arrangements could be made. She’s a rock at times like this, and for that, I am forever grateful. I knew full well that my colleagues and subordinates didn’t need to see me trying to make that phone call. Not good for morale and all that.

When she called back, she said an appointment was set for 4 this afternoon. That way we could take care of it before we had to pick up The Kid. She didn’t need to be involved. I called my boss and cryptically explained that I needed to leave a little early. She could tell it was something I needed to do.

We got home, spent a few final moments alone at home, and got in the car.

The event itself was what it was. I’ve been through it before, and it wasn’t easy then either. A dose of anesthetic, and she fell asleep. Once it had taken effect, the doctor administered the final sedative that would end her pain. The wife and I were petting her the entire time, and she had her head lying on my arm. Once it was done, the doc left the room so we could be alone. I’m not ashamed to say that I cried. We both did. A lot.

We composed ourselves as not to frighten the other patrons, picked up the empty cat carrier, and left. Vets never make you pay for this sort of thing right away. It’s probably best that way.

We returned home to a house with filled with reminders of the life that no longer lives here. Her food dish, water bowl, and even the litter boxes. Removing them is part of the process. It has to be done, and putting it off won’t help.

Lastly, there’s The Kid. At her age, she can’t comprehend what has happened. She’s looking around for Prynnie, and asking where she is. I try to explain, but she won’t understand for quite a while. And that’s OK. As long as she remembers, as long as we remember, Prynnie will always be with us.

Anyway, now I have 4 cats waiting for me on the other side. So I have that going for me. Which is nice. :=)

Zanyas

No, it isn't a make of eastern European car. Nor is it a recently discovered stellar object.

That's how a 2 year-old refers to lasagna.

We decided it was time to begin The Kid's culinary training, so we figured lasagna was as good a place to start as any.

Mixing the cheese was something she could handle. Moderately well, anyway.


How did it turn out? You tell me...





More importantly, did The Kid like it?





Oh yeah.

Vacation

So, we were on vacation a few weeks ago. Didn't blog about it, since that seemed to me the best way to say to the world: "HEY! Want a slightly used TV? Come get ours. We're not home."

We have some pics, but most of them are in The Wife's camera, which is safely secured in her desk. At work. At least it's safe.

We made our annual trek to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and a good time was had by all, especially The Kid. After some initial trepidation, she took to the pool like, well, a kid to water. Hard to keep them apart. Like opposite poles of a magnet.

The Kid was with us for the first half of the week, and then went to stay with her Grandparents so we could try to act young again, only to have the cruel reality of time rear its ugly head and remind us that we're not young anymore. But hey, at least we tried.

The Kid is growing like a weed (2+ inches in the past 3 months) and learning new things every day. She never ceases to amaze me with what she's learning. Last week, she climbed up onto the sofa with me, gave me a hug, and said "I love you Daddy. I'm happy you're my daddy."

Gulp. Why yes, there is something in my eye. Why do you ask?

I'll get pictures up soon, I promise. Until then, enjoy this...

Happy 4th of July!

I Thought We Were Over This Part...

0245 local

Me: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Kid (via Baby Monitor): Daddy? Mommy?

Me: Snort. Huh? Wuh?

Kid (via Baby Monitor): I hungry. Need hummus.

Me: [groan]

Kid (audible without monitor): WAAAAAAAAAAA!

Me: [grumble]

I walk (stumble, really) into The Kid's room. She's standing in the crib, tears running down her face. She wasn't feeling well earlier in the evening, and didn't have much in the way of dinner. Truth be told, she doesn't actually want to eat. She wants to be all better, and mommy and daddy can do that, right.

Turns out that as parents we're not endowed with magical powers to heal the sick, as much as we may want to. It also turns out that a good hug and a reassuring rub on the back can work wonders. We rocked in the chair, the two of us, in the dark.

Once I was relatively confident she was back in dreamland, I carefully put her back in the crib, making sure she had her blanket and paci-FIRE*.

I gave her a kiss on the forehead and tucked her in.

As I turn away, I hear a muffled "I love you, Daddy."

Hard to go to get back to sleep after that. In a good way.

Does We Like Pudding?

Yes, precious. We does.














We just don't keep it in our mouth very well.

Hester von Prynnenstein, Duchess of Bavaria

This is my cat.

Her name is Hester Prynne (don’t ask). Truth told, her full name is Hester von Prynnenstein, Duchess of Bavaria. We call her Prynnie for short.

I’ve had her for 14 years. Got her as a kitten, and she has been my constant companion over the years.

Those who know me are well aware that the two of us are virtually inseparable. She sleeps on my pillow every night, and is never far from one of our laps.

About 2 weeks ago, she was losing her appetite and, not to put too fine a point on it, piddling where she oughtn’t. A trip to the vet was in order, so on Friday last I got her in the carrier (no easy task), and took her over to the local Cat Clinic for a look-see.

14 year-old cats are approaching old age, and, like us, begin to have health issues. I am a rational adult, and fully aware of the circle of life and all that crap. Still, it’s never easy to confront.

Blood tests were done and results acquired. Although the doc said “we don’t like to use the term ‘kidney failure’”, the term “early stages of kidney non-functionality” sounds suspiciously like kidney failure. To me anyway. What do I know? I didn’t go to vet school, but I did take an English class or two over the years.

“There are options”, says she. There always are. “Hospitalization for fluid treatments, or you can do it at home. It’s easy. We’ll even show you how.” This, dear reader, is when money rears its ugly head. Economics have to be taken into account. There’s also that pesky “quality of life” nut to crack. Another tough one. I can’t really explain to a cat why she has to endure such things, much less endure it somewhere other than home. The Wife and I decided to go with home care. That means, dear friends, that every night, after we have all supped and The Kid safely and snuggly a-bed, we collect the cat, IV bag, and needle. 18g x 1”, for those readers who are medically trained (Hi Caroline and Lili!).

We hang the bag, insert the needle under her skin and spend the next 15 minutes or so waiting for the appropriate dosage of potassium chloride, for to restore some of that “kidney non-functionality”. Does she tolerate it? Surprisingly well, actually. After 4 weeks of this, we’ll re-evaluate. The Wife has been enormously supportive through this, further affirming the validity of the commitment we made to each other on that beautiful March afternoon. A typical conversation goes something like this; “Are you OK?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Are you lying?” “A little.” Then a hug, which I graciously accept.

It’s gonna be a long month.