One of our cats, "The Handi-Cats" has been in the hospital since Sunday. She came home today. Her kidneys are sick, making her very sick. She is the youngest of the three. Chances are slim for a long term recovery so things are very somber around the homestead. Yes I call my cats the "Handi-Cats". Scotch is mine, she has a paw that is nerve dead from frostbite. Morten is the wife's, he "caught" his tail when he was a kitten, bit it bloody, and had to have about 2 inches of the thing chopped off. Until Sunday, Cleo's (ours) "Handi-Cat" superpower was obesity. She is an 8 pound cat trapped in a 12 pound frame. Now she has renal failure, vaulting her to #1 Handi-Cat. We think she ate a toxic plant. Or as Carlin would say, she is trying to commit suicide.Cleo, our #1 Handi-Cat passed away yesterday. She made a good run for a year with renal failure. I am happy to say that she spent the majority of her last two days gorked out her mind on pain meds (not that she was in pain, but she was restless and uncomfortable) on my lap watching TV. Over the past year her care had been scaled back from what it was in the beginning. She was on epogen less often and subQ fluids were 200 ML every other day.
~IDSN October 21, 2005
Cleo was "our" cat. The first pet the wife and I purchased/adopted together. We like to say that she picked us out. Back when times were the leanest I worked about 10 blocks from our house. I would drive home for lunch and watch Springer or Matlock, depending on what time I ate. These were the days of no cable and 5 channels. Cleo would come and sit on my shoulder to watch me eat. I can only imagine that she was fascinated by my opposable thumbs. We adopted her around January 1998. All told she only lived about eight years. Losing a pet is never easy, but this one I had accepted as gone a long time ago. Frankly she had become a burden, while I feel guilty thinking and admitting that, I can't hide from the truth. She was ill and needed constant maintenance. As of late she was loath to make her way to the litter box and found other welcoming areas about the house to do her business. Fortunately her kidney damage meant that there was little of the ammonia in her urine.
I am no longer the weepy little kid that I once was. In fact I am shocked that I am not more upset than I am. Over to the left is a pic (the only one on this computer) of Cleo at the vet just over a year ago. While she never returned to full form, she did have a nice run this past spring and summer. She was happy and playful and the only one of the three that received much in the way of lap time.
So now the Handi-Cats number is two. We have no plans on replacement or substitution. Much like the government we plan to reduce via attrition. Luckily the boy hasn't become fully aware or attached to the cats. He loves to chase them, but he's not emotionally connected. I am sure we'll see water works when we lose the next one.