My youngest cat, Wheezy, passed away. She took a sudden and drastic decline in her health. This morning, she was walking around and eating well; I was preparing to bring her home in the afternoon. Within hours, she lost her sense of balance, and couldn't sit upright. Then she had a seizure.
The doctors said that her protein loss resulted in damage to her nervous system — that she was getting fluid build-up in her brain. They put her on diazepam to stop the seizure, so she just limply rested in my mom's lap. My brother and I were there as well, and we talked amongst ourselves and with the doctors to decide what to do.
Just shortly after my twentieth birthday, I had a pet guinea pig, an overgrown coffee-bean of a rodent, named Malcolm. He ended up getting sick, and despite our best treatments, one evening, he had a seizure and died in my arms. That was horrible, and I didn't want Wheezy to have to die like that, overnight, alone in some cage.
Wheezy was a fighter, and she beat the odds on everything to that point. However, the FIV just ruined her immune system, and made everything so much worse. There's just no coming back from that nervous damage. I took her into my lap, and had been stroking her to comfort her, but I didn't hear her purr at all. My brother was the first to agree with the recommendation that we should euthanize her, then my mom. Then they asked me, but I was too busy just trying to keep myself together to say anything. It felt like a very long pause. When her legs started to twitch, we could tell the diazepam was wearing off. I didn't want her to have another seizure. So, I held her — and when I could gather the composure to speak — I gave the go-ahead.
I thought she'd be coming home today. But we tried our best, so I can sleep without regret. I'm glad that she received so much love with us, rather than dying outside because of the cold, or of starvation, or of a respiratory infection years ago. And towards the end, I'm really appreciative than she had great care.
I wish I had better news. I didn't expect her to last to old age with her complications, but after fighting through her surgery yesterday, and her apparent recovery, I really didn't think I'd be writing this journal today. Normally I try to reply to each comment individually, but it's been a busy and trying time. Regardless, thank you, everyone, for the kindness you've shown me during Wheezy's illness. I really appreciate all of it.
That's really fucked up. I lost my bird of 24 years around this time in 2013, and it still hurts. Even the mention of birds makes me lose it. Losing pets is one of the worst feelings ever, so I know what you're going through. Got you in my prayers tonight.
You don't know me and I don't know you, but I hope everything gets better. Take care.
This feeling is... not unknown to me.
I used to have a cat that got hit by a car, and he was banged up pretty bad, broken jaw. I rushed to visit him at the vet the second I heard of it when I came from college one night, and I honestly didn't think anything would happen. Sure he'd need some recovery time and lots of care, but that's nothing. After visiting him the next day again, I came home without even considering the possibility that he might die, so when the vet called ask for the go ahead on the surgery, I gave it without much thought.
But about 3 or 4 hours later, she calls saying that he passed away. I couldn't believe it, and I held onto a desperate hope that I'd get there, and somehow he'd be resurrected. When it didn't, I just didn't know what to do.
What I mean with all of this is: The feeling of dashed hopes is one of the most painful feelings one can suffer. I hope you can mourn her in a healthy manner and come to terms with death better than I did.
It breaks my heart to hear of the passing of your cat. Pets always deserve better than that. They're precious to us and rightly so. I'm so sorry you all had to go through that.
I lost my first kitty not even 8 months ago. I still miss him terribly, and it's not really any "easier" today that it was right after we euthanized him -- that's how deep my connection to him was. But as time goes on I find I think a lot less about the pain he and I and the rest of us went through during that time, and more about the charming, charismatic, adorably conflicty moments he brought into our lives. My cat helped give our lives light and shape and meaning.
That's why its so hard to lose a pet, because it feels like we lose a part of ourselves. In a way, we never really lose them, because the relationship we shared with them remains a part of our lives forever, and we can take comfort in that while we learn to live in their absence.
My heart goes out to you and your family. I wish for you the best.
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Jean-Renaud
I'm so sorry to hear that. Sounds like you did everything that you could for her.