Sara & Spenny (GA)
Member Since 2014
I'm not sure why I'm writing... I guess I'm looking for a few words of comfort from others who understand what we animal people go through when a pet passes away. This is Spenny's story in a nutshell:
He was found by an acquaintance in a crate in a ditch, about 7 weeks old and alone with no food or water. She fostered him until THIS sucker came along and when our eyes met, well, you all know that story.
Eight years, many room mates, boyfriends, personal crises and moves later, he was still my faithful sidekick. Always there. Always with me. Part of me.
He was diagnosed with diabetes a few month ago and we had been doing well with the injection and testing routine. He was not yet regulated but it felt like we were getting there. Three days ago he was himself, chasing flies around the kitchen and sprinting to catch any Medi-Treat that I flung across the room. Two days ago, he seemed a bit tired but nothing too out of the ordinary, but that night he refused to eat. For a cat who was usually ravenous all day and would alert everyone in the house (LOUDLY) when it was time for him to be fed and injected, that was my first sinking feeling.
Next morning; still wouldn't eat and was not drinking but was still using his litterbox like a pro. I got him to the vet right away and he had lost 0.7kg in the last 9 days and his liver enzymes were all out of whack. They recommended an ultrasound through emergency if he didn't perk up from the Vitamin B and fluids received in clinic.
He remained relatively unchanged, but slowly became more lethargic, weaker and clearly less present. He spent the night wandering the house looking for the 'right' spot but could not get settled. I spent the night analyzing his blood results trying to decide the next step. I have worked in emergency and specialty vet medicine and vowed I wouldn't put my animal through any of the more aggressive treatments unless the prognosis was excellent. I felt further diagnostics might help quell my curiosity but ultimately not help Spenny live a longer and possibly less comfortable life.
While my Mom and I were with him in the exam room trying to make the most difficult decision of my life thus far, Spenny looked at me and let out a mewl that I have never heard before. It was a desperate, tired and frustrated cry. My Mom said "He just told you." I nodded and told him "Okay Buddy. I get it."
Now I'm trying to deal with the shock of it all and the sudden waves of "My best friend is gone. Just like that. He's gone". I have had many, many pets throughout my life and have dealt with the death of most of them firsthand but this is truly the most heartbroken I have ever felt and I honestly don't know how I'll get past this.
I question my decision. Did I do the right thing? Would he have pulled through with further treatment? Would that have been fair to him? Without a crystal ball, I will never have any of these answers and it's going to haunt me.
I don't expect any of you to have read this through but any words you may have would really help me right now.
I just miss him so much.
He was found by an acquaintance in a crate in a ditch, about 7 weeks old and alone with no food or water. She fostered him until THIS sucker came along and when our eyes met, well, you all know that story.
Eight years, many room mates, boyfriends, personal crises and moves later, he was still my faithful sidekick. Always there. Always with me. Part of me.
He was diagnosed with diabetes a few month ago and we had been doing well with the injection and testing routine. He was not yet regulated but it felt like we were getting there. Three days ago he was himself, chasing flies around the kitchen and sprinting to catch any Medi-Treat that I flung across the room. Two days ago, he seemed a bit tired but nothing too out of the ordinary, but that night he refused to eat. For a cat who was usually ravenous all day and would alert everyone in the house (LOUDLY) when it was time for him to be fed and injected, that was my first sinking feeling.
Next morning; still wouldn't eat and was not drinking but was still using his litterbox like a pro. I got him to the vet right away and he had lost 0.7kg in the last 9 days and his liver enzymes were all out of whack. They recommended an ultrasound through emergency if he didn't perk up from the Vitamin B and fluids received in clinic.
He remained relatively unchanged, but slowly became more lethargic, weaker and clearly less present. He spent the night wandering the house looking for the 'right' spot but could not get settled. I spent the night analyzing his blood results trying to decide the next step. I have worked in emergency and specialty vet medicine and vowed I wouldn't put my animal through any of the more aggressive treatments unless the prognosis was excellent. I felt further diagnostics might help quell my curiosity but ultimately not help Spenny live a longer and possibly less comfortable life.
While my Mom and I were with him in the exam room trying to make the most difficult decision of my life thus far, Spenny looked at me and let out a mewl that I have never heard before. It was a desperate, tired and frustrated cry. My Mom said "He just told you." I nodded and told him "Okay Buddy. I get it."
Now I'm trying to deal with the shock of it all and the sudden waves of "My best friend is gone. Just like that. He's gone". I have had many, many pets throughout my life and have dealt with the death of most of them firsthand but this is truly the most heartbroken I have ever felt and I honestly don't know how I'll get past this.
I question my decision. Did I do the right thing? Would he have pulled through with further treatment? Would that have been fair to him? Without a crystal ball, I will never have any of these answers and it's going to haunt me.
I don't expect any of you to have read this through but any words you may have would really help me right now.
I just miss him so much.
