A year and a half ago, two days before Greyhaven's midsummer Charlie Party, my favorite cat, George, went from being merely hyperthyroid to active, acute, renal failure.
We chose to euthanize, and the morning of the Charlie Party, I buried him in dpaxson
's front yard.
Tomorrow is the Odin Party.
Yesterday, Sigdrifa spent eighteen hours hiding in a closet. When we finally found her and hauled her out, she was lethargic, staggering, with little control of her hindquarters. She hadn't been eating (we realized when we compared notes) and last night refused water as well.
Today, a diagnosis: diabetes mellitus, with a secondary complication of hepatic lipidosis. Absent the Greek and Latin, that means that if we chose to treat, it's several days of hospitalization, followed by several weeks of a feeding tube, force-feeding her through a tube until her liver came back online, which will be at least three weeks. After that, twice-daily insulin injections for the rest of her life, to a being to whom I cannot explain why we haul her out of hidey holes and jab her with pointy things.
We have chosen to euthanize. Today, or tomorrow, I plant another cat in dpaxson
's front yard.
Wibble, on her part, littermate to George, is elderly (16 1/2) but spry: hyperthyroid is under control with twice-daily oral meds that she doesn't like, but does tolerate. The raw diet we put both cats on a few months ago, plus the hormone therapy, is doing wonders: she's gained weight back and has a lovely silky coat.purplevenus
is on her way, we're gonna blubber on each other for awhile, and then do what countgeiger
and I have to believe is the right thing by Sigdrifa.
Using six-year-olds' logic, Greyhaven parties are bad for my cats.