We interrupt Lloyd’s ‘Post in 4 parts’ for a meaningless explanation.
I got my first piece of hate mail.
A concerned cat lover let me know in no uncertain terms that putting the cats to sleep was a terrible idea. I wrote back, explaining the decision, and Lloyd thought perhaps I should tell all of the internet the whole story. If you already know this, feel free to skip ahead to tomorrow.
Cricket and Pfennig were 15 1/2 and 14 1/2 years old, respectively. Our vet told us that they were becoming geriatric. They’ve lived through a lot.
About five years ago, Cricket woke me up howling one morning. She was holding her paw like it was broken, and I rushed her to the vet. After they x-rayed her (and she bit them all), they told us she had arthritis. A cortisone shot helped, but he said she needed to keep skinny so it wouldn’t become aggravated. (Remember that part.)
When Pfennig was a wee cat of 3 years old, she had pretty bad urinary problems – peeing all the time, peeing blood and peeing in visitor’s suitcases. We put her on prescription cat food that cleared it up, but she had to be on it for the next 10 or so years, and she got really fat. A year ago, it stopped working. I took her to the vet to find out why she was drinking so much water, and he said she might be diabetic. There were tests he could run, but we decided against that. (Cat lovers, hate me here. I decided against giving my cat a shot everyday. I’m the devil incarnate.)
As you know, over the next year or so, the cats switched bodies. Pfat Pfennig became skinny, and skinny Cricket became fat (aggrevating her arthritis). Then Cricket had the anal gland trouble that required the antibiotics that messed up her system. She never had a regular bowel movement since then, despite yogurt, probiotics and several kinds of expensive cat food. When we took them in again, we were told just to watch her and see how it went. Oh, and Pfennig had a heart murmur. “Watch for strange breathing – it might be her heart.”
Then there was the summer ‘poop all over the basement floor’ issue that preceded the digging of the grave. The vet said that they might just be getting senile. We changed food again, added another litter box, put litter attractant in the boxes, changed the litter daily, and put a step up to the litter box. I should mention that when Cricket would pee, it was not a normal amount of pee. Something was wrong. Daily scooping yielded 3-4 giant bricks of clumped litter.
So now it was down to this. It wasn’t just ‘missing the litter’ box, it was pee in my closet, in Brad’s closet, in the play room, all over two twin guest beds, their chair in the basement, the floor in the tool area, the floor in the library area, the floor in the laundry room. (I got out the blacklight last week, and nearly fainted with what I saw.) Pfennig had become a skinny ghost that only slept and ate, and Cricket had a hard time jumping up onto my lap.
And the barfing. Oh, the barfing. Beth can attest to the barfing.
I loved my cats. I’m sorry that my cheap cat food post made it seem like I only fed them crap. They had other, non-cheap (IAMS, Purina, some organic stuff, and yes- Meow Mix) dry cat food in addition to that (several kinds – nothing worked).
So, forgive this overly-detailed post. I’m left with a freezer full of different kinds of cat foods that didn’t help, various items in different stages of de-stinking, and now, a heap of guilt from a stranger. No, wait. I don’t feel guilty. I just feel sad.
So here’s the wrinkle. I want to take the high road here, so no support of me and no bashing of the letter writer, or vice versa. Your comment must be about your feelings regarding mustard, or I will delete it.