I have two cats. But the really nice one is sick, and probably dying. The vet says her blood tests show abnormal liver function. It might be an infection (although the urine test was negative for bacteria) or it might be gallstones blocking the bile duct. But it’s probably lymphoma. She’s nearly 18. Even doing an ultrasound to image the liver and have a better idea of the problem would be really traumatic. Everyone I know who treated their pet for lymphoma ultimately regretted having done so.
She’s on an antibiotic and an appetite stimulant. They seem to have helped a little.
I’ve never had a pet killed. Mostly, they’ve died on their own – hit by a car, killed by another animal… One died on his own (probably also of lymphoma) but when he was finally close enough to death that it would have been right to put him down, it was late at night, and we just stayed up and held him until the end. This cat really HATES the car, and is terrified of the vet. When she was young she had an allergic reaction to a vaccine, and he had to give her epinephrine, and she still associates the place with feeling sick and terrified. So I don’t think it would be a kindness to take her there to have him put her down.
The vet’s advice is to try to keep her comfortable and as happy as possible. And keep her on the antibiotics for four weeks, in case that helps.
puzzlegal - There are mobile vets that perform at-home euthanasia, which is much less stressful for the pet. When it’s time, you might want to consider that.
Yes, I should talk to my sister about home-euthanasia. I think she found a service like that. I also wonder if I could find a mobile ultra-sound service. I doubt it, but if I could I would do it. I would want to treat gallstones. Not only might the treatment work, but gallstones are pretty painful by themselves, and it might be worth the pain of surgery to address that.
But the vet thinks that’s less likely, and I don’t want to go dragging the cat around on a wild goose chase.
I’m SO sorry! My one and only true pet love was given to me by my brother when I was 16. I lost him almost 3 years ago, and it still hurts, so I understand what you are going through.
Hoping it was a gallstone, we had her imaged. The good news is that she didn’t find it all that traumatic. I think she’s too sick to care. The bad news is that while it is the gallbladder, whatever is wrong with it is complicated, and the odds of surgery curing it are low. And she’s not strong enough for surgery, she’d need to be on IV to build up the strength to even try. And abdominal surgery is extremely painful. (Both my parents have had comparably major abdominal surgery.) And she’s 18, which is like 80 or 90 for a person.
If it were me, I don’t think I’d opt for the surgery. We’re not doing it to her. So we will cuddle her for a little longer, and say goodbye.
I asked the vet, who gave us a reference. If we need that, we can do it. She’s still asking to go outdoors, and I don’t think she has the energy to keep up her temperature. So I may let her out when she asks. Hypothermia isn’t a bad way to go. Or, she may just starve herself to death, which also isn’t terrible, based on reports of elder relatives.
Francesca died peacefully last night, probably of hypothermia. She was curled up in a favorite spot next to the house, in a shallow window well full of dry leaves, overlooking the basement. We’d been leaving the light on so she could look over the basement, as she always did like to be up high and look down on things. She hadn’t eaten since we stopped actively feeding her, on the 31st, and was barely drinking. (We have another cat, food was available. But we’d been putting soft food into her mouth.) She enjoyed her favorite places, and cuddling with her favorite people, in her final days.
Our devoted supercat’s last days were obviously of great discomfort and pain. We took her to the vet, who said, “When you’ve done everything right, this is how it ends.” Yes, a cat devotes its life to its humans, and we do our best. Then we grieve.
Thank you all for your kind thoughts. We buried her in the back yard, next to the patio, at the base of a weeping redbud. We lined the hole with some of the dry leaves she liked to sleep in, because none of us wanted to throw dirt directly on her beautiful fur. We’d coincidentally invited the kids over for brunch today, so we delayed the interment until they were here, so we could bury her together.
