Good night, Squeakitty
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.