Cats. These amazing creatures. (Bragging allowed)

Sigh… we’re just starting to sail these waters.

Our sweet, 13-year-old boy Rocky (center) had an eye infection several weeks ago. While he was at the vet, they discovered a mass in his abdomen. After an ultrasound they couldn’t be sure which organ it was associated with, so we were referred to a specialist. The specialist elected to do exploratory surgery, in hopes that he would be able to remove the mass.

The surgery was 12 days ago. The mass was attached to the pancreas, and had engulfed the spleen. The surgeon removed his spleen and cut off the tip of his pancreas. Rocky rebounded quickly, he’s already back to his old self. But the Friday after the surgery, we got the call: the pathology came back and the tumor was cancerous.

Rocky had his follow-up visit with the surgeon on Thursday, who said Rocky is doing great. He said it was a blessing in disguise that Rocky had that eye infection, and that the tumor was caught early. He also said the cancer hasn’t metastasized at the microscopic level, which is odd, in a good way. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s cancer.

Rocky has an appointment with an oncologist this Thursday. I’m really hoping it won’t be all doom and gloom… that since we caught it early, we’ll get a couple more years out of him.

Oh, Rocky is sweet. As are your other cats. Here’s hoping for a lot more time with your baby.

I have two cats that I got from the local animal shelter.

One of them has a hate for the plastic bag my morning newspaper is delivered in. She extracts it from the wastebasket and kills it, growling and yowling horribly all the while.

I figure she was just i need of toys, so I bought several at the pet store. She is afraid of them.

Cats is weird.

Many years ago, I had a cat named Minnie. She was a sweet little DSH tuxedo, who would purr at the drop of a hat. I also had fairly long hair for a man in those days.

I’d often stretch out prone (on my stomach) on the bed, to watch TV in the bedroom. Minnie would climb up on my back, knead a bit, then use her claws to pretty much comb my hair. She was always very gentle, and never caught my scalp; and she worked just like a comb does, only she did it with her claws. When she figured that my hair was combed sufficiently, she curled up for a nap in the small of my back.

Years later, my Denver (DSH, all black) loved to play with the bathtub plug, which was not chained to the tub. We’d find the plug in the living room, the bedroom, and so on; just not in the bathroom, where we left it, and where we needed it. So instead of leaving it on the side of the tub where he could get it (or getting a chain for it), we just left the drain plugged in a dry tub. The faucet didn’t leak, and it was a tight fit, so he couldn’t push it out, so no problem, right?

Wrong. Denver looked at the situation after climbing into the tub, looking for his favorite toy. He found it, but it would not respond to a pushing by his paw, nor could he bite it. Well, he could bite it, but that would not be what a gentleman cat does, and Denver was always a gentleman.

The plug had a metal ring, so it could be attached to a chain, but like I said, we had no chain. But Denver, looking at the plug in the drain, devised a solution: he extended the claws on his right paw, and carefully hooked one through the metal ring on the plug, and pulled up. Voila! He had his toy back.

Never underestimate the intelligence of a cat. They’re smart and sneaky.

GESancMan, so sorry to hear about Rocky. Please keep us posted about this.

Bumping this thread to give an update.

After I wrote the above, Rocky went through a chemo regimen that wrapped up in February 2020. He got through it all just fine. We then took him in every three months for an ultrasound.

Last May, the bad news came after his ultrasound: the cancer was back. We elected to try chemo again. We decided if it wasn’t doing any good after three appointments, that we’d throw in the towel and let nature take its course. Well, after the third chemo in July, the doctor told us it wasn’t doing any good. She told us “any time now” Rocky would take a turn for the worse.

That was six months ago! He gradually went downhill, but it wasn’t until this past Monday that he took that turn for the worse. We’ve had a plan in place for months with our mobile vet, who would come to our home and do the deed. We decided it was time, but… our daughter had fallen ill on Sunday night. The earliest we could get her tested for Covid wasn’t until yesterday (Thursday).

Then on Tuesday my wife and I got sick as well. Not knowing if we all have Covid or not, the doctor volunteered to come over today (Friday) anyway, as long as she could enter our backyard through the gate and do it out there, while we remained inside the house.

Turns out we do have Covid. But the doctor showed up this morning, coordinated everything… and we said goodbye. The doctor was wonderful, she held him and cuddled him since we couldn’t. And she was kind enough to wait for 15 minutes so we could bring Rocky back inside, to let our other cats check him out.

I keep welling up with tears as I’m writing this, but at the same time there is this vast sense of relief. Rocky isn’t miserable anymore. All of the stress of dealing with this for two and a half years can now melt away. But I will always miss him terribly.

I am so sorry.

I’m glad you got those two and a half years. And that you have such a good vet.

That vet is awesome.

Sorry about Rocky.

@GESancMan sorry about your loss. Good thing you had a good vet, especially at the end.
Our first cat a lovely tortoise we got at the shelter, has lived for 17 years and then just couldn’t anymore. This was pre-Covid, so we all went to the vet with her. My eldest son couldn’t bear staying around, my youngest was small back then and merely fascinated. I held her until she died. She’s buried in our yard, as is our little Black tomcat we got somewhat later. He was the feline equivalent of ADHD. I had worried sick over him countless times when he would cross the road or just sit in the middle of an intersection. He was killed by a car one night, just after his first birthday. Thank God it was an instant death, he never knew what hit him. Apparently he had gone through eight lives already when we got him. He was adorable, very snuggly and an overall happy camper.
Now we have two ladies, sisters. They’re both very affectionate, but one is a bit shy. Whenever she wants attention she’ll go up on her back paws and tap your arm very politely to receive scritches and bump her head on your hand. Her sister is always adamant to climb up my lap and messes with my phone when she doesn’t get proper attention.