I’m sorry to hear that things haven’t improved. She is fortunate to have had such loving owners who gave her so many happy years. My condolences to you and your husband.
I knew I shouldn’t have come back to this thread. I’m shedding tears for you and Ugly, jsgoddes…literally, as I type this.
It sounds like Ugly is trying to comfort you by being so affectionate; she’s telling you she’s ready, she’s not afraid, and she loves you and thanks you for the wonderful life you gave her.
{{{{{jsgoddess}}}}}
{{{{{Mr. jsgoddess}}}}}
That’s one of the reasons I love Mr. Neville so much- because he loves our kitties. Men who love kitties and aren’t afraid to admit and show it are truly a treasure.
Something in my eye… sniff
I am so sorry for you. We recently lost hubby’s kitty, Zoe. She was only 9, but had some sort of pleural effusion - they suspected hemothorax. It would have cost over $400 just to get a diagnosis (in addition to the $350 to do x-rays, blood work, and get her on an IV). We just plain couldn’t do it.
He rescued her from the middle of the street when she was just a tiny kitten. Like he said, “I saved you once Zoe. I’m so sorry I can’t save you again.”
Crap. Gonna cry now.
I sure hope nobody comes by my office right now, because I’m sitting here with tears running down my face and I’m running out of napkins.
jsgoddess, your situation really got to me because I was in a similar one last year. My beloved Russian Blue baby, Meep, who wasn’t even 5 at the time, developed lymphoma. After about eight months of chemo (during which she was her happy purry self), she began to fail. I didn’t really notice it until I left to attend a convention in August, leaving the spouse to take care of her on his own. He loved her as much as I did, treated her like his baby–and during the time I was gone she decided to stop eating. He mixed up kitten milk substitute and wet cat food and syringe-fed her several times a day, but to no avail. By the time I got back and got a look at her (I think my time away had given me new perspective), I looked at him and said, “I don’t think there’s anything else we can do. I think she’s telling us she’s ready to stop fighting now.” And he looked at me with tears in his eyes and nodded, saying, “I didn’t want to face it, but yeah.”
We were going to have the vet come to our house, but Meep kept getting worse. We decided we’d take her in the next morning. We left her downstairs (she didn’t want to move around–I think she was too weak, but she’d struggle when we tried to pick her up) and went to bed. In the morning we found her under our bed. She’d managed to climb up a flight of stairs just to be near us. That was it. We took her outside and let her see the yard for a few minutes, then took her to the vet’s. She died in my arms. The euthanasia shot wasn’t even necessary–the tranquilizer to make sure she didn’t feel anything was enough. She was that far gone, but she held on for us.
jsgoddess, I wish you and your husband strength, and Ugly a peaceful passage. It’s going to hurt you guys, because losing these little critters always hurts, especially when they’re this beloved. But Ugly knows you guys loved her. She’s just telling you that she’s ready to give up the fight now.
Okay, I’m on my last napkin now. If I cry through this one I gotta go look for more, so I’d better stop.
I’m so sorry to hear about Ugly. It sounds like she knows the end is coming and she’s soaking up all the love and affection she can–and giving it in return. I’m glad you have her at home now. Even if you can’t do anything for her, she’ll be happier having you with her and being in her home.
It’s surprising how their instinct seems to tell them to go to their people rather than hide. The night our Roger died, he was too weak to sleep on the bed with us (we didn’t know how sick he was–we were going to take him to the vet the next morning), and we were worried he’d fall off or have trouble getting down if he needed the litter box. When he knew the end was coming, he got himself down the hall to our room and woke us up with very loud meows. He died in my arms on the way to the vet. But we both took some comfort in knowing that he loved and trusted us enough to come wake us rather than just go hide and die alone.
Sincerest condolences, I know it is hard. Our thoughts and best wishes to all of you and of course, especially to Ugly, a very fortunate cat who has lived long and always within the blanket of your love.
I think my cats know Ugly. Cuervo, who is usually a ball of energy, chasing socks around the room and playing when I come home waited until I sat down, laid down against me with his head on my lap and fell asleep purring, letting me jujst stroke his ears.
Well, dammit. Damn damn damn. Poor sweet Ugly.
Tears and warm fuzzy healing thoughts and good memories for Mr. Jsgoddess.
She’s not going to get well, and we know that.
But we had a little miracle this morning. She decided she was hungry.
I should have known better than to second guess my husband when it comes to his cat. He told me she just wasn’t quite ready to go yet. Soon, but not yet.
And she proved him right.
It’s just a matter of days, but she wanted just a little more time.
Hug your loved ones, no matter how many legs they have. Life is so short.
jsgoddess - I’m so glad you got a reprieve, no matter for how long. When it’s time, you’ll know.
StG
I think I’ll just bookmark this thread for when I need a good cry. (We need a very weak smile smiley.)
**jsgoddess ** - perhaps that she’s eating means she will get better - stranger things have been known to happen
Ugly is gone.
She collapsed this afternoon and we had her put her to sleep.
I haven’t cried yet. I’m afraid to start.
Thank you everyone for your support. It means a lot to me.
I’m so sorry for your loss, jsgoddess.
GT
Aw, I’m so very sorry.
There are no words to say how very sorry I am. (((hugs)))
My heart skipped a beat when I saw this thread up on the front page again.
A lot of cats are going to get a lot of extra petting tonight, I would guess.
Ugly was a fortunate cat to be cared for and loved by people like you.
It’s ok to cry.
I am so sorry. 
Ugly was lucky to have such a loving family.
Something that might help–I know it helped me when my Meepy left us–is to write down as many memories of your time with her as you can come up with. If you’re anything like me you’ll cry while you do it, but going over the memories and having them at hand can be comforting.
{{{jsgoddess}}}