Sunday, January 24, 2010

Architect worried, please stand by...

While working on my conference presentation and meeting with Gestalt last week, I suddenly noticed that Maddy wasn't very interested in, well, anything. She's lost a pound in the past month and her appetite and activity levels have decreased, plus she's started fighting me every night when it's time for her medication--something she's rarely done. In her almost-twelve years with me, she's been an easy cat to medicate and an easy cat to find. Just turn around or look at your ankles, and there's a kitteh.

She's going to the vet oncologist Monday to be looked at and have an ultrasound done on her bibbin. While it's possible that something else is going on (cancer can weaken a creature's immune system and make them more susceptible to opportunistic illnesses), it's probably that the cancer is back, and I'm not so sure that she's going to beat it this time like she did last summer. She's already lived a year past the vet's original estimate, and it was a great year. She had put on weight and was still whippin' Hazel's ass. (Hazel would look up at me from the floor from some of those feline beat-downs as if to say, "Dammit, I thought you said she was dying?!") Sometimes she acts normal, well, low-key normal, and sometimes she acts like Things Are Not Well At All. Mostly, she's kinda meh. So, we're having her checked out to be sure.

I know that cats and dogs (and most domestic pets) aren't supposed to outlive us. We only have them for a brief amount of time, and then we must let go of them and release their little souls back to the Universe. I know that as a caretaker of such a wonderful little furry soul, it's my job to care for her as best as I can, which includes providing that release when it's time to send her on and not to prolong the agony. I am extremely thankful that I've been able to keep a job through this economy, because without it I could not have afforded the chemo meds for Maddy. Now I pray for the ability to accept her eventual passing--which has seemed so abstract for the past several months--and the wisdom to know when it's time to let her go and help her along.


Meanwhile, Maddy says, "If you're going to be sitting there sniffling, Mama, how about some more treats?"

That sweet kitteh sure is a sweet talker. =^..^=

6 comments:

OHN said...

Oh..she is a beautiful kitty.

These decisions that are made out of love are the hardest!

I have sobbed at the vet more than I would like to admit.

I hope she surprises you with another year.

Miss Kitty said...

Ohhhh, poor Squaddy, and poor you. (((hugs)))

Srsly, yu haz ben vry gud mama 2 ur big fyre-kullrd bebeh. Yu haz. Squaddy's had a life to be envied with you & Guy & Dirty-Chinned Ebil...you rescued her from starvation & early death at the T____'s house. When it's time, you'll know, because she'll tell you. Kittehs always do.

(((moar hugs)))
[sniffling nao]

Mile High Pixie said...

Thanks OHN and Miss Kitteh. I've spent the evening petting her and giving her extra treats. She can't have anything to eat tomorrow until after her abdominal ultrasound at 3pm. >^..^<

Cynthia said...

So sorry to hear this. Even when you know it's coming, it's hard to watch your baby go downhill. Perhaps it's a secondary issue that can be treated. Best wishes.

ms. kitty said...

I'm so sorry, Pixie. It's so hard to let go of a beloved animal, especially a fyre-kullrd one like Maddy.

Andrea said...

No words of wisdom...youb know it all already. Just hugs and snuggles sent your way and to Maddy.