OK, I have to preface this with a paragraph or so.....Before Bob was dx'd, he was not "my kitty". He was a 100% Momma's Boy. His sister, Lillian, was "Daddy's Girl". When Lilly died, I was "catless". I'm allergic to Mullet, the only cat who has ever had that effect on me. If he sits on my lap, it's red eyes and sneezy time for me. So for several months, neither boy had anything to do with me.
When I came home from the vet, and told DW the diagnosis, her response was "we can't do this. I don't have the money". So, basically, PTS... I begged to differ. My vote was "screw that, I will use MY savings, I ain't putting him to sleep. I want to try to save him". I had just lost my all time bestest kitty, Lilly, and I couldn't just keep losing them. Losing Lillian crushed me. So, I took on the responsibility for Bob's treatment. The food, the testing, the vet visits, the early wake ups, the late nights, all of it. The only thing I asked for help with was "can you show me how to give a shot?" and "Can you hold him still while I poke his ear?". Once I had that down, I didn't need any help. So Bob and I learned to dance.
OK. Now for happy moments. I sat here thinking a while, and there were lots of them. Little things, things that only you guys would understand.
The first time I saw a lower than 400 preshot.
The first time Bob, at test time, walked over and sat at my feet patiently waiting for me to get all the crap ready.
The first time I reduced his dose.
Bob's a big crybaby when he goes in the carrier to the vet. Cries all the way there, all the way home. Of course, once we get there, he has to be dragged out of his "new favorite place to be", but as soon as we get back in the car, he starts *****ing. It's about 15 miles home. After probably the third or forth weekly trip to the vet, we're on the way home, Bob trying to be heard over the IPod. I pulled into the front gate of the Park, and I look over at Bob. He's silent, staring up at the trees (one lane road through a pine, oak and palmetto jungle - think "Jurasic Park"), looks at me, looks back at the trees, head butts the carrier door (which I open), puts his little head out the door, lays it down, and doesn't make a sound the last mile of the ride. I don't know if he saw the trees, smelled the ocean, whatever, but it was like "wow, we really are going home! OK, I'm good). After that day, every time we've gone to the vet, the same thing happens. As soon as I enter the Park, he shuts up till we get home. Still talks the rest of the way. I mean, now I look for it to happen, and it has never not happened. Pretty awesome.
One night, probably three weeks in, I was laying on the couch. Bob hadn't left the floor under his own power for weeks. I didn't even see him coming, but he reached up and dragged his fat butt up after a couple unsuccessful attempts and curled up against my chest, just like his sister used to do all the time, and purred. His mom came into the room, he picked his head up, looked at her, and put his head back down and took a nap. Looking back, that was probably "the" moment. It was like "F-you, HE'S the mamma now". From that day on, given a choice, Bob picked Dad.
Couple more...
The first time Bob jumped up on the bed, which didn't happen till several weeks after he was OTJ. It's maybe 8" taller than the sofa.
The first time Bob played fetch again. His special fetch toy sat in his toy basket for at least two months. He played fetch every day before diabetes. He just couldn't do it anymore, and I wasn't going to force him to. One night, he went over to the basket, pulled out the toy, walked over to me and dropped it at my feet. I tossed it, he fetched it, brought it right back. He used to be good for 15-20 tosses before he needed a "time out". He only fetched it three times that night. By the third time my eyes were dry. That was when I knew he was really okay.
And now, every day he makes me smile. Every day, when I get home from work, and outside the door I jingle my keys till I hear "thump"....the sound of Bob jumping off of whatever he's perched on. Then I open the door, and every single day, there's Bob just inside the door, waiting for Dad. And talking. In my head, he's saying "Freaking Awesome!!! Dad is home!!!" Of course, that's what I hear. What he's actually probably saying is "FEED MEEEEEE!!!!" :smile:
Thanks Denise....good idea.
Carl
It might be that the kids are downstairs and it is quiet. It is true that we become so close to our sugar kitties, Payne is my biggest pain 
