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My cat Chloe is not doing well. Has kidney and liver problems. Isn't drinking much and doesn't eat at all and that includes her favorite people food such as ham and shredded cheese. Vet has done bloodwork showing the liver and kidney issues and as she is over 20 years old the options are slim to none. Came on really quick this week and she was at the vet Thursday and Friday for an appetite encourager and fluid intake. I have had her all of her 20 years except for her first couple of months as she came from a hoarder that had her and 20 other cats in cages in a basement :( She helped me through the loss of not only a job but both of my parents. She means so much to me I can't even put it down in words. Lots of cats and kittens need homes yes but they aren't CHLOE!! Sigh, writing this down is not being as cathartic as I thought it would and while yes, she is not gone yet I can't even begin to think of life after she is gone. All I know is that really quick after the deed is done that I will have at least two if not 3 cats in the house as the idea of no "pitter-patting" around the house and meows being heard is out of the question.
So, send your thoughts. Chloe and I will appreciate them believe me!
Follow Ups:
The vet had given her some antibiotics and while she appeared very lethargic and really no appetite after taking them today she seems 100% better and even came up on our bed this morning via the steps we have there for her! With her recent pickiness on food however we have around 11 cans of opened food in the sink that she did not like with another 6 or seven to try. She seems to have found one she will eat more then one sitting so that's encouraging as well.
Thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers. After her heart episode a few years ago I thought her lives were up...guess not :)
good news for all concerned and a relief to most here who you shared this with.
Well, looks like Chloe has a few lives left. Glad to hear she's doing better.
So happy to hear this.
___
"If you are the owner of a new stereophonic system, this record will play with even more brilliant true-to-life fidelity. In short, you can purchase this record with no fear of its becoming obsolete in the future."
...and had many friends who adored their cats. I have a cat (Annie, 13) and can't imagine life without her.A friend of mine recently lost his cat ...a very, uh ...special cat. After his cat passed he penned this wonderful eulogy...
A eulogy for the incomparable Stanley Catz - AKA "Stanley the Magnificent" - AKA "Bigs". - Born - Sept 1998 - Died April 8, 2015
Stanley was born deep in the mangroves to a outdoor semi-ferrule mom and a dad hailing from a ferrule cat colony adjacent to Capt Slate's Atlantis Dive Shop on Key Largo. Stanley was a thirty pound orange Tom Cat with a head the size of grapefruit and a bad ass alpha cat mentality. Stan didn't need to be photo-shopped into a picture to look impressive, he was just a big kitty. We did not own Stan he simply choose to share space and his life with us.
Stanley started out life as an indoor/outdoor cat and as his body and reputation grew he quickly became the undisputed ruler in the animal hierarchy of our neighborhood. Stanley feared nothing. Stories of Stanley backing down dogs and showing up at neighbors houses for dinner became fairly commonplace. His outdoor reign of terror finally came to a head in a most unlikely and enlightening way. Our family went on vacation and when we returned a week later the person who had been taking care of Stanley informed us that he had escaped from the porch the first night we were gone by eating his way through the screen and disappeared into the night.
As we canvassed the neighborhood to find out if anyone knew of Stanley's whereabouts we began to hear stories that gave us some insight into his midnight rambles. Our next door neighbors had not seen him this week but detailed how Stan would often show up in the afternoon at their house and take a nap under their boat or in some other remote corner of their garage. They admitted to always being afraid that they might accidently shut him into the garage when they left for a long weekend. Another neighbor said he stopped by most evenings howling for a handout and that he never turned down table scraps. The folks across the street recounted how he would boldly enter their garage and tear open a fresh bag of dog food and treat himself to a little afternoon snack. There were many stories of Stanley sightings by several of our neighbors, some we felt we had to make apologies for. It would seem that Stan was a bit of a rogue.
We eventually worked our way to a house about a block down the street and upon inquiring about Stan they said yes, there was a giant orange cat that frequently stopped by their house and begged for food. They gladly fed him and thought that he was just a stray. The husband was a lawyer and he told us that his secretary's cat had recently passed away. He said he thought the big orange cat was a stray and it might be just the tonic to help her get over her loss so he took Stanley to work and gave it to her as sort of a consolation prize. We had a good laugh and he gave us his secretary's phone number so we could call her and retrieve the beast. The secretary was very nice and told us how thoughtful Joe was for bringing her the cat. She went on to say that her cat had just passed and she was not ready for a new cat just yet. She explained to us how she had taken the big orange cat to the Safe Harbor no-kill animal shelter here in Jupiter so they could find the big orange cat a good home. We thanked her for her thoughtfulness and then called Safe Harbor to make arrangements to pick up our wayward Stanley. The woman who answered the phone at Safe Harbor did not hesitate when I asked her if they had received a big orange tabby a couple of days prior. She told me he was the biggest cat she had ever seen and that he had, effective immediately, established himself as the undisputed Grand Poobah of the shelter cats. But ..... she continued, there was a fellow who had phoned in a couple of days earlier saying he was missing an orange tabby and she had called him to come down and take a look and see if this was his cat. She told me the fellow came in and admitted that this was not his orange cat but, most likely speechless and stunned by Stanley's magnificence, he would take him anyway. I guess to some folks one orange cat is as good as another. I got the fellows phone number and thanked the shelter lady for her time and good work. I could never work in a shelter because my house would surely fill up with strays.
I rang the fellow up right away and recounted the whole bizarre chain of events, from Stanley being a void filling gift for someone's secretary, right up to the arrival of the big orange cat in his home. I thought he would be amused by the story, I mean, who could make that shit up? He immediately got defensive and asked if I could prove that the big orange cat in question truly belonged to me. Obviously, Stanley's insidious charm had already taken hold of the man's better judgment. He asked me for some distinguishing characteristics. I countered with pink paws, pink ears and a pink nose. In a condescending tone he rebuffed me with, all orange tabby cats have pink accessories. I was silenced. I had no idea if his statement was true and, if it was true, who kept these kind of obscure cat records. I later came to believe that he made this little factoid up on the spot. Undaunted, I reached deep and remembered that a few days prior to our vacation we had gotten Stanly "fixed" and the vet said that the stitches would dissolve in a couple of weeks. I gambled that there would still be remnants of the sutures in his private parts and gave the man instructions on where to look. He put the phone down and after a minute and got back on the phone and told me flatly, "Come on down and pick him up.". There was a distinct air of disappointment in the man's voice.
The fellow lived on a floating home in the inter-coastal waterway off US 1 in north Jupiter. These were not houseboats but small homes on floats with narrow twenty foot pier style walkways connecting them to land. A few years later all the floaters were wiped out by hurricane Francis or Jean or perhaps both. I rolled up to his walkway with one of many kitty carriers that I purchased during Stanley's life. Stanly did not like kitty carriers and would chew his way through and out of them on the way to the vet's office in a way that I can only compare to the way Houdini used to escape from straightjackets and locked chests, only Stan did it with his teeth, not hidden keys. Stan preferred to stand in the passenger seat with his paws up against the window while howling his head off and surveying his surroundings. I pulled up and honked my horn a couple of times and the fellow came down the gangplank to meet me. I told him how Stan hated water and that I would just pop him into the kitty carrier to transport him over the narrow walkway with water on either side. He told me that it wouldn't be necessary to use the kitty carrier and said that he would bring Stanley out to me. "Fine", I said, " Have it your way." I could tell that he was pissed about losing his new big orange cat but I still did not appreciate his attitude and, I didn't really feel like it was my responsibility to fill him in on Stanley's negative experiences with water though in hindsight, he might have benefited from the story about the big cat on the small surfboard in the swimming pool incident. So out the door they came, the man carrying his big orange cat for the last time under his front arms, body dangling down and facing him. As they left the doorway Stanley became acutely aware of the water flanking him on either side, started to panic, and that is when the shredding began. Stanley's claws were flailing away, finding their way deep into the man's arms. As the man quickens his pace down the walkway the pace of the panic and shredding increased at a directly proportional rate. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, it was Newton's third law come to life for me in a way that no science teacher could ever have hoped to portray it. Man flying with cat, cat flailing on man. Why the man felt it was necessary to get Stan all the way to the end of the walkway and not put him down somewhere along that bloody route has always puzzled me. He handed Stan off to me with the business end of the cat still facing him, his arms cut and bleeding like he just lost a fight with a tree chipper. I stuffed Stan in the kitty carrier, recommended that he visit the drop in clinic and thanked him for taking such good care of the big orange cat.
Thus ended Stanley's outdoor activities.
Stanley, by virtue of his misadventures, had now become a strictly indoor cat. Upon this unfortunate turn of events Stan turned all his alpha male energy into becoming the undisputed and absolute ruler of the house. Stan must have seen me as the current reigning alpha male and decided I needed to fall in line behind him. I honestly believe that he was plotting ways to bump me off or if all else failed make me one of his bitches. I don't believe that Stan ever gave up the idea of becoming the supreme ruler of the house. After several tense months and some shocking cat behavior it was either Stan gets with the plan or Stan hits the road. I knew a guy with scared arms who lived on a floating home who might still want a big orange cat.
Eventually Stan's behavior became somewhat less disturbing and sufficiently tolerable. He reluctantly "settled in" though it was quite clear that he was not at all happy with his place in the pecking order. Stanley was not our cat, we were the tormentors that also fed him and cautiously petted him when it suited his whims. Stan's demeanor around the house was more like that of a dog than a cat. He feared no one and would sit in the middle of a big party and wait for some unsuspecting innocent to pet him. He bit family and friends with the same lack of discrimination and remorse. Despite profuse warnings, people would be lured into his web by his big wide eyed cuddly cat routine. Stanley would set the trap. He would approach his victim all sweet and purrrry, then rub up against the intended victim's leg as if to say, "Come on, don't listen to them, you know you want to pet the big soft kitty". Trap snaps shut, BANG, his teeth are imbedded in the back of your hand and when you manage to wrestle it away from him he doesn't back down and stands there staring at you with a look on his face that that says "Well, why are you looking at me like that, they warned you didn't they?." Cat people, they just can't resist petting the big orange kitty. Stan sent several unsuspecting cat lovers to the clinic for antibiotic treatments.
Stan had his favorites and on the top of the list were our sons Ed and David. Dave, however, was our youngest and therefore the smallest human in the house. Perhaps Stanley was attracted to this feature of Dave the same way a big cat in the wild would be attracted to the smallest animal in a herd while hunting. Although his bond with Dave seemed to be very tight I remember two separate incidents that often made me stop and wonder exactly where Dave figured into Stan's idea of their relationship. When Dave was about 11 years old he came running through the family room as boys often do. Like a bolt of lightning, Stanley shot out from behind the sofa and took a swipe at Dave's trailing leg just as a lion would trip up an impala on out on the Serengeti. Dave went down like a sack of spuds, Stan just stood his ground. Another time Dave and I were lying on the floor watching TV, I had an odd feeling someone or something was behind us. I turned my head to see Stan standing behind Dave's head with his mouth wide open as if he was sizing it up for consumption, perhaps he was just yawning, but I have my doubts. He was a odd housemate.
Even if Stan was a tad hard to live with you had to respect him for he was, if nothing else, fearless. I will never forget the time our oldest son Ed had a friend over at the house for a day of playing in the pool and hanging out. His father showed up at the prearranged time with the family German Sheppard to pick up his son. While the boys were getting ready Christie went out on the front walkway to talk with the father and pet the dog. Stanley got wind that something was going on in his domain and put his front paws up on the window ledge only to see the full grown German Sheppard standing about 10 feet away from him. Stanley freaked, he puffed up to about twice his already considerable abnormally large cat size and started to growl like a mountain lion, which, was about the way he looked. The dog stood at attention when he saw Stan in the window and then started to back away when he heard Stanley's growl turn into a full caterwaul. Stanley then began to eat his way through the screen on the window, the only thing that he could see separating him from this uninvited intruder. Meanwhile, the dog cowered behind his owners legs as I cautiously pried Stanley off of the screen and away from the window. I always knew Stanley was a bad-ass but in an odd way I was particularly proud of old Stan that day. The dog was easily three times his size but all he wanted to do was get a piece of him, that was the essence of Stanley Cat.
Stan stayed true to form right to the very end. Stan was approaching his 17th birthday and he seemed to be going downhill for the past few months, losing weight along with his appetite. He had trouble walking and even getting up and down from the floor was becoming a visibly painful chore. He never complained and looked like a proud old male lion getting ready to get in his last licks with some unseen adversary. Christie and I took him in to the vets office yesterday not knowing what to expect. The vet had to put Stan under to do any type of exam or draw blood because no one wanted to stick needles in that cat when he was awake, Stan had already sent one vet tech who tried to hold him down to the hospital. When we left the house we both knew that Stanley might not be taking the ride home with us but not a word was spoken about it. Once inside the examination office we let Stan out of his kitty carrier, he knew where he was and he was not happy about it. The vet tech nervously marveled at the old orange cat's size while I petted him to try and keep him calm. While purring, and without missing beat, Stanley spun around and took a big bite out of the back of my hand as if to say, "Hey, I'm dying already, stop being such a pussy and let's just get what needs to be done here done!" Upon examination they found a lump the size of a tennis ball in his abdomen that had his insides all screwed up and he was bleeding internally. The vet ushered us back to the room where his body, limp from the gas was spread out on the table. He had Christie feel the lump in his gut and showed us the x-ray of the damage that could not be fixed. We balked and said we would take him home so that Dave could come down from Gainesville to say goodbye, but the vet said that since he was already under the best thing was to let him go now. We called Dave and put the phone up to Stanley's ear and Dave said his goodbyes. Christie and I both said our goodbyes to his large orange lifeless body with the little pink tongue hanging out, it was the first time I could remember him ever looking vulnerable. Three went in and only two came out. As we left the vets office, the back of my hand was still throbbing from the bite he had given a few of minutes earlier, I thought to myself, well played old friend, well played.
I never met Stanley, but feel now feel as if I knew him. As for my friend, you'd never know he was a cat-person by looking or speaking with him. It just goes to show how much a part of our lives these little furry characters become.
I am terribly sorry to hear about Chloe and will be sending good vibes your way.
Best regards,
Dean.
reelsmith's axiom: Its going to be used equipment when I sell it, so it may as well be used equipment when I buy it.
Edits: 04/26/15
that is an amazing piece of writing. I feel like I knew Stanley...Tell your friend that his appreciation of Stanley was very much liked.
.
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"If you are the owner of a new stereophonic system, this record will play with even more brilliant true-to-life fidelity. In short, you can purchase this record with no fear of its becoming obsolete in the future."
I always post this for members who have lost a beloved animal companion. It sounds like you're close to that point. I never read anything that comes close to expressing the loss one feels when their little companion passes. It still brings a tear to my eye when I read it even tho our little lovable mess of a cat :), Bob, passed 15 year ago.
----------------------
"E Burres Stigano?"
I especially like the quote from the vet: "We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle…"
True, but it's also a wonderful circle.
Many of our human friends and family will also die before us, so we better love those around us when they are. The pain is unavoidable, and just the flip side of the love and joy.
___
"If you are the owner of a new stereophonic system, this record will play with even more brilliant true-to-life fidelity. In short, you can purchase this record with no fear of its becoming obsolete in the future."
Maybe the Byrd's Turn, Turn, Turn will help with what is happening, or about to happen.
While somewhat on the subject, thoughts and prayers are in order for the Philadelphia Union and their fans. The team is suffering a slow and agonizing death themselves this season.
Neil
These intelligent, peace-loving, four-footed friends---who are without prejudice, without hate, without greed---may someday teach us something." James Mackintosh Qwilleren.
Your post, and the responses below, tear at my heart.
I believe that you and Chloe have both been so fortunate to find each other, and 20 years is a blessing. But nothing will make it easy. i grew up cats and a dog. The dog, Violet, and last two cats, Nadja and Nipper, were like the younger siblings I never had. I was especially close to Nadja, a shockingly beautiful and yet unwanted Chocolate Point Siamese cast away, who spoke all the time and liked to sleep under my covers with her head next to mine. I was devastated when they died and "knew" I could never feel as close to any pet as I did to those three.
And yet my wife and I now have two little rescue dogs (going on our 4th anniversary with them). They are our first pets since reaching adulthood, and even though they are only about 5 and 5 /12 years old, my hear aches sometimes when I am looking at them because I love them so much and realize they won't be with us for the rest of our lives.
I will continue to think about your post and to feel what you are feeling. The pain means you're a loving and empathetic person, and that Chloe is awesome! But that doesn't make it easy.
___
"If you are the owner of a new stereophonic system, this record will play with even more brilliant true-to-life fidelity. In short, you can purchase this record with no fear of its becoming obsolete in the future."
Yeah, this thread has been a real tear-jerker for me, too.
Glad to read how much love you had with your extended 'family' as a kid. And family they surely are.
I don't think I'll ever have another animal. Once our Maggie passed (December 27th, 2012), I have just not wanted another cat or dog. It is like with a child. You can never replace them. But when I read about others, such as yourself, who adopt new furry family members, and the renewed love and joy they bring, I pause. But sadly, I am allergic to cats. Maggie was a Norwegian Forest Cat, utterly enormous, and filled with love. Best of all, I was not allergic to her very much. But my doctor indicated that with my advanced years, maybe it was time to stop stressing my system. And my wife is allergic to dogs. But at least we have one another.
I am very happy to read you and your wife have found new furry friends to share your life with. Don't worry about the inevitable, just live in and for the moment. Hell, I almost lost my life to a very bad malignant melanoma in 2011, and the doctors still cannot believe how lucky I was. I get checked for it frequently, every year, and it hasn't recurred anywhere else, thankfully. But worrying about when your animals may be called away by fate is not something you should put any energy into, as you never know, they may out-live you! (God forbid, of course!)
So enjoy them while they are here and 'take therefore no thought to the morrow'. For none of us know how long our life's thread is, and the Three Fates (Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos) are always very, very busy.......
Maggie sounds like a great cat and wonderful companion with a strong personality!
If you decide you'd like a pet someday, you might consider a small Poodle or Poodle mix. They do not shed and are hypoallergenic. My wife is allergic to cats, which is why we went down this path. The boy is a Toy Poodle with a very unusual coat - it's gray/silver, but he has a white stripe going from his chin all the way across his chest, and the hair is wavy rather than curly. The girl is a Toy Poodle Maltese mix, and jet black, which is unusual. She loves to run across the dog park and then leap into my lap from about 10 feet away, which often draws applause for the other dog owners. They are small and adorable, but they are real dogs with strong personalities.
I was never particularly fond of very small dogs, or Poodles for that matter, but it took me all of 10 minutes to fall in love with both of ours. We were at a foster home to pick one and ended up leaving with both because they had clearly bonded as a couple among the other dogs that they both ignored and we couldn't take one and not the other.
___
"If you are the owner of a new stereophonic system, this record will play with even more brilliant true-to-life fidelity. In short, you can purchase this record with no fear of its becoming obsolete in the future."
The one problem for us is that we are Americans living in New Zealand. We might decide to split time 60-40 between the NZ and US, but dogs/cats MUST undergo a VERY difficult full quarantine (visits only twice a week, for VERY limited time frames) for 30 days each and every time they come back to NZ. The cost is astronomical, both in dollars and in wear and tear on the animal.
So, no, no more pets for us, at least for the foreseeable future.
Thank you for the kind advice, though.
Cheers!
WS
20 years! What a great life, surely that's like a human living to 100+. I decided to go positive on my post but I know it's tough to cope now. Since moving here to WV we have had 6 cats and 5 dogs since 2002 and we have 3 dogs and just 2 cats left. All our pets are unwanted adoptees.
As indoor outdoor, mostly outdoor cats they face lots of predators here in the mountains/woods of WV. The cats actually want to go out and even when it is sub zero F outside they still want out especially at night. For our cats a fixed female has lived the longest and is still with us. She is a great mouser. The males, all unfixed eventually get in trouble and show up beat up then don't return at some point. The one exception being Frank who badly injured a rear leg two years ago but with medial care it is fine. Perhaps he knows he is not 100% (but you wouldn't know by looking he has no limp) and has changed his "habits" if you will.
The dogs fare better with Bear Bear living till 15, he did chase off one dog in an alpha male thing we think and we have his two sons and now Otis whom we adopted in 2013.
Best wished in this time from my wife and me.
E
T
Chloe has had a wonderful and happy life with you and you with her. I feel your pain. About 12 years ago I finally had to put my AJ to sleep after 22 years. He was so much a part of me that I couldn't imagine life without him. My wife and I cried like a blubbering idiots in front of the house visiting vet. Hell, I'm crying now. It was the most painful moment in my life, and I couldn't think of ever having another cat.
Six months later we had two new rescues and fell in love immediately with both of them. Neither replaced AJ, but both have brought a lot of love and joy to our lives since they became part of the family. Three years ago, we had a third join our home.
I wish you the best, and believe me, things will eventually get better.
When our beloved cat, Maggie, was diagnosed with advanced inoperable throat cancer, we decided that we would simply make her last days as wonderful as possible.
She was cuddled and loved up continuously for weeks and weeks, and when it was obvious that the end was near, and she was terribly weak (but in no pain), I decided that I would give up a few days of my life for her, and simply laid down with her in our bed and cuddled her for two days straight, only getting up for potty breaks for her and I. She purred (as best she could) the whole time. It was tough laying there with my arms surrounding her for basically 48 hours straight, but when her strength ebbed to where she could no longer stand on her own, that was the agreed upon sign that it was time to say goodbye.
I admit to softly crying most of that time we lay cuddling, and even now my eyes are watering and tears are flowing, some two years later, so the loss never really heals, as it is with anyone you truly love.
But still today, I feel very, very good about how she was sent off. I have absolutely no regrets as to how we approached her terminal illness, and I think our old girl understood that her human companions loved her with all their hearts and souls, especially her Daddy, yours truly.
Few people can afford to take such time with and for their dying pets, and this is not meant to offer any type of standard whatsoever. It is meant to show that they know you are there for them, whatever you can do to make her final days filled with love and warmth and the best of energies. That's all you can do, is do your best. And she'll know that, and love you for it.
And while the tears will flow non-stop for a good while thereafter, you can always hold your head high that your beloved Chloe was loved well and good in her remaining time on Earth, and that if there is an afterlife, and if our darling animal companions share in it, you can rest assured she will be there, waiting for you, to share your love for eternity.
Here is wishing you and Chloe all the best.
(And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm a blubbering wreck, as we never really do get over the loss of those we love with all our hearts. Ever. And maybe that's a very good thing, at least in my book.)
Take care. And again, I hope this helped.
WS
had me fetching the tissue paper.
Focus on all the good times.
Warmest
Tim Bailey
Skeptical Measurer & Audio Scrounger
n/t
Twenty years is a long time for a cat. Be thankful for it. That's about all you can do; understanding the course of events. I study Buddhist thought -- a lot -- and although it is training for times of loss, the blow is never softened or diverted. The first thing told is to hold your face to the wind and never expect a bailout.
Peace be to you and your friend.
Sorry to hear. Yes, I just lost my dog of 17 years to kidney failure (his creatine was off the charts) and it was harder to deal with than I thought it would be.
The cans of gray, renal health food gave him an extra 6 good weeks, but we weren't interested in extending that with IV hydration.
It's quite poignant: animals have no idea what's coming. On the morning we took him in for euthanasia, we went for our normal walk, and I fed him "normal" food for the first time in months: microwaved meatballs.
saying goodby to those whose love was mutual and unconditional. It would not do to tell you to be brave, that is not possible. I lost my first cat when I was 7 and still miss her.
You have had 20 years of that special bond, many never have any. You and she are better for it and because of what it was and what it meant, when it is over you will have a strength that will ease the torment.
I wish you well and I wish Chloe relief from any suffering she may be having...
A guy I once worked for wrote this at the link, I hope it helps to give you comfort.
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