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I stayed home with Kiesha on Monday. After Sunday evening, I was worried about her. She still was not eating, although she did lap up liquid from some wet food. My regular vet was unavailable, so I made an appointment for 10:00 on Tuesday morning. I did take her in for fluids on Monday afternoon because she had been throwing up so much. She was a little dehydrated, so the fluids helped her stay comfortable.

She looked so small and uncomfortable Monday evening. I gave her some wet food with gravy in a bowl on the bed. When I checked on her a little while later, she had curled up with her rump in the wet food bowl. She had never done anything like that before. On Monday night, she slept at my feet instead of under the covers. My poor kitty. I could feel the bumps along her spine under my fingers when I petted her. She purred a little, but mostly she would move away when she started coughing.

I wanted desperately to cuddle with her over night because I knew what was going to happen when we went to the vet’s in the morning. She squirmed and complained if I picked her up, so I let her sleep where she wanted to instead of pulling her up next to me. I loved on her in the morning and stayed in bed with her as long as I could.

She went into the cat carrier without too much fuss. Curled up and was quiet during the entire drive. We had had an ice storm the night before, so the drive out took longer than expected. I talked to Squeaky on the way out, in part to keep myself from crying.

I kept telling myself that Kiesha was going in just for an “evaluation,” to see where we were with the tumor’s progress and what it meant for her outlook. Except I knew that I was not going to be bringing my kitty home with me.

There comes a point when you have to let a kitty go, and today was that day. She was so good and purred when I cuddled with her. The vet couldn’t get over how much the tumor had grown and also commented on how Kiesha’s coat, muscle, and overall demeanor had gone downhill. The tumor in Kiesha’s abdomen had also grown in size. From it’s location the vet thought it might be attached to Kiesha’s intestines (which could have interfered with digestion). The tumor under her chin was interfering with vocal chords, swallowing, eating, and would eventually interfere with her breathing.

The hard thing about Kiesha’s cancer is that it was only going to get worse as time went on. She wasn’t going to heal. There weren’t any treatment options. She was already uncomfortable and hurting. I couldn’t keep her here for me when she was going to be in pain. The only choice I had was to let her go.

I stayed with her until she took her last breath. My poor little Squeaky. She was gone even before the vet had finished administering the dose.

Here’s to my sweet Kiesha, the aggressive cuddle cat and last of my four kitties.

For the third day in a row, Kiesha has been dry heaving and making those strange up-chuck then hoarse quack-squeak, with her stomach heaving up and nothing coming out. She hasn’t been looking good. Her coat quality has deteriorated. She is drinking water and using the litter box.

She hasn’t touched the dry food in a couple of days. I emptied it and put fresh food in there, but there still doesn’t seem to be anything eaten from it. The last time I saw her nose around in the food, she threw up two pieces of the dry food. It’s like she can’t swallow it so it comes back up. I think the tumor has gotten large enough that it has started interfering with her eating.

When I gave her wet food today, she immediately started licking it. She is so hungry and she can’t seem to eat anything. She licked t the food enthusiastically. She even took a few bites of the wet food. Even small bites of the pate caused problems for her. She would take a little bite and then stop, cough, half gag, lick her lips, and then lick the pate again.

When I was out running errands today, I tried to find types of wet cat food that would have a lot of gravy or juice that Kiesha can lick up and have some nourishment. I found two types of wet food (Iams and Friskies wet food in a pouch). The Iams is okay for ingredient quality. The Friskies isn’t any where near as nutritious as what she is used to. The idea is just to get some calories into her.

She eagerly licked at both bowls, lapped up the gravy. I felt very relieved that maybe I’d found something to help her. Except she started heaving again and nothing came up. Her breathing was labored, like she had a hard time catching her breath after the dry heaves.

She saw me come into the room and tried to purr. It is a pale echo of her loud, out-board-engine purr. It’s a whisper of a purr with a heavy rasp, like someone trying to purr but has smoked cigarettes for far too many years.

Instead of sleeping with me, she has been sleeping in hidey-holes. She sleeps in the closet, behind the closet door, next to the wall behind the book case, even under the bench at the end of the bed. This is all new behavior. Usually she sleeps with me and purrs. This morning and yesterday she wasn’t with me for most of the night.

I talked to Kiesha’s vet today. She said that as the tumor gets larger, it may interfere with breathing and eating. Tonight, Kiesha looked pretty miserable for the first time. I’ve known for the past week that something had changed for her. She’d hit the tipping point and we were going to have to do something soon.

Today she was so uncomfortable. I curled up next to her, loved on her, and cried. We’re going to the vet’s tomorrow for an evaluation. In my heart, I know it’s time but I don’t want it to be.

I woke up this morning to the sound of Kiesha trying to up-chuck right next to my ear. She was heaving and licking her lips but nothing was coming up. I put her on a floor and then put a paper towel under her, in case she did throw up something. Nothing came up. She made a gargling noise, coughed with a strange after noise that sounded like a hoarse duck.

She continued to heave, with the strange noises. I sat next to her, petted her, and tried to do what I could to help her. She moved away from me when I tried to pet her. The tumor under her chin now is the width of her chin.

I feel so powerless to do anything to help her. She will still gently headbutt my hand when I hold it near her head. She likes it when I pet behind her shoulders, but not her head, and only when she is laying down. When she is walking, she moves away from any contact.

Squeaky has been with me for 17 or 18 years. It’s so hard to watch her gradually deteriorate. She is such a sweet little kitty. When I pet her, I can feel more of her ribs and spine along her back. Her dry food hasn’t been touched today, but she seems to be eating the wet food.

She has the same slightly hollow look in her eyes that Basette, Stella, and Ambush all had in their last days. It breaks my heart to see her like this. I keep hoping she’ll get better, but I know she won’t.

The mass under Kiesha’s chin has continued to grow. She doesn’t come downstairs to greet me any more. In fact, she’s only been coming downstairs once or twice per week. She purrs hesitantly when she see me, like an engine with a rough idle.

It’s hard to listen to her purr. She is having a harder time, but mostly seems okay. I keep watching for the day when she isn’t quite right, when she doesn’t seem happy or comfortable. I keep hoping we’ll have more time, but at the rate the tumor is growing under her chin, I’m afraid.