Dying cat, take 2

In my previous post, I mentioned that my cat Choochie is more than likely on the last leg of her journey but is doing just fine. Unfortunately, today I received word from the vet that Choochie is in the final stages of kidney disease.

Yesterday, Choochie wasn't her usual self. She was struggling with her constipation and also vomiting white foam. In addition, she kept meowing at me (which is rare for her) and kept trying to jump up on the bathroom and kitchen counters so that she could drink directly from the faucets (which I haven't allowed her to do for about 14 years, due to an ear infection that was likely caused by water). So, thinking that perhaps she was dehydrated, I positioned her onto the bathroom sink myself and ran the water for her (trying to not let any water trickle into her ears). This happened repeatedly yesterday. And she didn't eat anything. So, I took her to the vet.

It turned out that she was very dehydrated. Also, the heart murmur that she was diagnosed with about 10 years ago (and which hasn't shown up during any exams in the past several years) was detected once again. The vet took an X-ray and confirmed that her entire intestinal system was backed up, and an enema was performed. They also rehydrated her. We were sent home with an assortment of medicines, and I was warned that Choochie could, uh, continue to leak throughout the evening.

I didn't see any leaks, but I couldn't get her to eat, either. As soon as we got home, Choochie hid under my dresser (her usual napping spot during the day), and I didn't see her come back out until this morning.

Today, the vet's office called with her blood test results and said that she probably only has a few months to live. They gave a couple of options of treatment, including regular rehydrations and new medications that we could try. But they indicated that the focus would eventually need to shift to making her comfortable (e.g., painkillers) and then reevaluating her quality of life (e.g., putting her to sleep).

I knew this would happen someday. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that it's happening now while I'm unemployed and am able to devote so much time to taking care of my little roommate. One thing I know for certain during this season is that my instructions are to take life one day at a time, and I intend to do that with my cat as well.

So far, it's happened the way God said it would happen. He had told me that Choochie would die suddenly. I just hope it involves as little pain as possible.

So today, I spiked her drinking water with a laxative and fed her prescription canned food directly from my hand. My apartment smells like canned cat food and death.

And it's beautiful.

When it's Choochie's time to go, her passing will mark the end of a very long season for me. Macho and Choochie were the dream team of pets. And they were all mine. They knew me when I was 24 and embarrassingly wet behind the ears, all the way through my 30s, and into the beginning of my 40s. They've seen sides of me that no one else has ever seen. They've known me in ways that no human has ever known me -- because they've lived with me during some of the most challenging, stretching, aching times of my entire life. I think I've probably grieved the deaths of my cats harder than the loss of any human family member.

Because my pets are my family.

So, when it's Choochie's time to go, I'm going to grieve her passing. I've already been grieving it pretty much all day. (I don't know how I would have been able to make it through today if I'd had to go to work.)

But for now, Choochie is still alive -- all 3.8 pounds of her -- and I'm still keeping a close eye on her. Whatever she wants, she's got it, within reason -- even if she wants to drink nasty hard water straight from the tap.

"Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?" (Matthew 6:25)

Changing the subject ever so slightly, I've started to feel lately what this Bible verse really means. If I'm worried about how I'm going to pay my bills, I need to take a step back and get some perspective. Technically, as I type this, I'm not overdue on any of my bills; why am I freaking out? Technically, if you compare life versus food, the fact that God has been keeping me alive is much weightier than whether or not He is able to provide food -- which He is. (My satisfied tummy can vouch for that.) Technically, if you compare the human body versus clothing, the fact that God has sustained my body for the past 41 years is much weightier than whether or not He is able to provide clothing -- which He has. (My fully stocked closet can vouch for that.)

So, I'm good to go.

With that said, if I'm going through all this trouble to sustain the life of one tiny little cat -- who isn't my creation, who isn't made in my image, and whose life span is only a quarter of my own, if that -- how much more trouble would the God of the universe go through to sustain MY life and take care of ME? God created me in His own image, designed and destined me for a specific purpose, and adopted me eternally. If I'm in trouble, He's going to rush in and help me through it. If I'm in pain, He'll do everything He can to comfort me and help me endure it. If I'm in need, He's going to open His hand and feed me from it directly.

 

So, for now, and while I can, I'm going to make Choochie's last days the best that they can be. I don't want to miss any critical moments with her. I want to help ease her pain. I want to sing to her. I want to enjoy every last second of her.

Because she's mine.