There's no good way to break this news, so I'll just get right into it.
Earlier tonight I had to say goodbye to my kitty Orson.
Warning: I'm being quite thorough in my description, as is my custom. Probably painfully so, and if you want to simply skim, that's OK. Being this detailed is sort of therapeutic for me, but I certainly understand if it's not anyone else's cup of tea.
When I left home this morning, as far as I could see all was well. Orson had snuggled next to me as usual during the night, and when my alarm went off he performed his usual routine of jumping down to have some water and food, and then meowing to insist that I get up too. I tried to get him to sleep in a little, and he did come and see me for a while, but he was awake, and apparently wanted to get about his day's business. I left for work after making sure he had water and food, told him to have a good day, and I'd see him later.
When I got home tonight at about 7:30, he did not meet me at the door, and I didn't see him once I got in and put my bags down, so I went looking. He wasn't on the bed or chair, ottoman, or in the litter box, so I called for him. He answered with a meow, and I got the flashlight and peeked under the bed. Sure enough, he was back in the corner, in a place where he goes off and on, sometimes to avoid the vacuum cleaner, and sometimes just because. So, I figured something had spooked him, and now that I was home, he'd be out soon.
Over a few minutes, I heard his meows seem to get closer, but no kitty emerged. Then I looked over and saw his head peeking out from under the bedskirt. The next time I looked, he'd come out a little farther, but not all the way. So I went over and figured I could grab him now, and took hold of the scruff of his neck to pull him gently the rest of the way out. As I moved him, I discovered that his hind legs were not moving at all - he couldn't stand, and he started to pull himself along using his front legs. I touched his back legs, and he didn't react at all - I knew something was very wrong. I grabbed the phone and called the vet's answering service, and they took my number; the doctor called me back a few minutes later. He asked a few questions, and said Orson needed to be seen tonight; he warned me pretty explicitly with what he suspected was wrong that the news was probably not going to be good, and to bring him right in.
I got the carrier, and quickly got Orson into it and into the car. We were at the vet's in about 10 minutes. After an examination, the doctor told me his diagnosis and as he'd warned me, it was not a good one. Based on his exam, and his experience with the symptoms (no movement in Orson's hind legs, which were quite cold, he was breathing rapidly and shallowly, and the vet had heard some fluid buildup around Orson's lungs when listening to his heart) his verdict was a blood clot in a major artery leading away from Orson's heart. We discussed how sure he was about this - the vet was quite sure, he'd seen this type of thing before. Considering both the symptoms Orson presented with tonight, and the fact that over the last two years, he'd lost three pounds, and his heart seemed a bit enlarged, the doctor surmised he'd had undetected heart disease. He assured me that something like this - the clot - always was a sudden occurrence, and that must have also been one of the clues he'd gotten from my answers earlier...since Orson had seemed perfectly fine this morning. I asked a few more questions, such as whether any diagnostic tests were advisable and if there was any treatment (even though he'd already warned me there would not really be anything that could be done). He told me x-rays would not likely show anything, and although an anti-coagulant could be administered, that usually did not work, and often caused bleeding problems instead of just dissolving the clot. Finally, this was not something that was likely to resolve itself with a good outcome. As you can imagine, this was all very bad news.
By now, Orson was starting to give indications of some distress. His usual aversion to being at the vet's was probably part of it, but he was breathing harder, and his cries were raspy and strained. There was apparently only one course of action (natural or induced), based on everything the doctor said. And since doctors like to fix things, and certainly (in my experience) don't give up easily, I had to trust him on this - even though I did grill him, warning him that I was a librarian, so I was always after information. Looking at Orson, and how he was reacting to his physical state, I also knew I couldn't take him home this way - so I did my best to comfort him as the doctor administered a tranquilizer and then prepared the other medicine. The doctor wound up giving him two shots of the tranquilizer, since he'd shot the first dose into Orson's hindquarter, warning that it might take a while to take effect due to decreased circulation. That turned out to be the case, so he gave a second shot, and very shortly, that took effect. That second shot, combined with the first one and the distress that Orson was in, was enough to effectively suppress his central nervous system, but the last shot was needed to finally ease him away.
The whole thing, for me, was over in 2 hours. I don't know how long Orson was in distress before I found him; I hope it wasn't too long. I wonder if he somehow kept himself quiet and still under the bed waiting for me...but I can't really know. I suspect that if I hadn't gotten home when I did, I would have found a different situation, so I am glad at least that I was able to see and talk to him, and try and comfort him a bit before he was gone.
As I sit here typing this, every little noise makes me turn to look for him coming over to the chair at my computer, waiting for me to pick him up and hold him while I type one-handed. When I took the trash out earlier, I was looking for him at the door when I came back up the steps to the door. I'm sure that in the morning I'll expect to see (and hear) him starting his daily routine.
All I can say is, this sucks. I had gotten used to having the little guy around, and he seemed to have settled in with me pretty well. I thought we were in for a much longer time together, but we never do know how much time we've got, right? Everyday life makes it easy to forget - until something comes along to shake that up. I know we all know that, but this just drives it home again. I'm glad I cuddled him, even when he resisted, and told him I loved him all the time. I whispered it in his ear as I scratched his chin, pretty much every night, and definitely last night as I watched Bones and he sat on the arm of the chair next to me.
Odd, really, how I just had to relocate this blog, and in the process saw my old entries about bringing Orson home and trying to break him in to staying IN my apartment. Heh. Also, when I chose the photo for my profile here at the new blog host, I selected one I took of the two of us at my computer. Coincidences? Yes...but interesting ones, for sure. <sniff> Love ya, beastie. Miss you already...a lot.
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