My cat, Mohammed, died on December 26. It was a horrible day.
He'd been sick for a couple of months, was down to about 5lbs, which was pretty severe given that he's normally a 13lb cat. He had several vet visits and the last set of blood tests finally found the major infection. He was put on a third round of stronger antibiotics, and he seemed to be getting better. He was eating and drinking again, playing, coming out for visits and not sleeping under the couch all day... he even went outside to explore once. He was even back to sleeping on our bed during the day! He hadn't done that since the sick set in! He hadn't moved back at night yet, but I had full confidence that my cat was going to be ok.
(We have a king size bed. O still sleeps with us, and Addie does too. Mo slept there as well, and J did from time to time. It was cramped even in a king size.)
So, we headed to the Island for Christmas and I hired a really amazing cat sitter who would have two one-hour visits every day and give him his medication. We would be coming back late on the 26th or first thing in the morning the 27th. She actually gave me a lot of great tips for helping them be happier and to take better care of them.
At 2AM on the 26th, I woke up at 2AM and could not sleep for two hours. Absolutely no reason for this. I checked my email, did my boxing day shopping online, and eventually went back to sleep. I'm absolutely convinced this is when Mohammed collapsed.
Around 9:15AM my cat sitter called and I just missed the call. Checked my voicemail, figuring she just couldn't find the extra cat food, but she sounded choked up and said Mo was lying on the floor completely unresponsive. I immediately started packing our bags as I called the cat sitter back, told Brendan we had to leave early, made a vet appointment for 10:30AM and asked my mom to meet the cat sitter at the vet to pay for whatever needed to be done.
We were on the highway to the ferry when they called. The vet told me she could put him on IV fluids until I got there to say goodbye, but there was no guarantee he would make it. It was just the only thing they could do. I talked to Brendan, decided to go for the IV, then talked to my mom some more and realised this was completely selfish of me. (She didn't say this, I just realised it while we talked.)
It was his time to go.
I got my mom to hold the phone up to his ear so I could tell him I loved him and sobbed all the way through it. I asked my mom to kiss him on the head for me even though she's allergic and pet him while they were putting him down.
I think that's the worst part. We couldn't even make it back in time so that I could say goodbye in person.
Absolutely crushing experience. I cried, and cried, and cried. I still get choked up.
I got his ashes back yesterday, but I still feel like I'm looking for him. I always told Brendan I wasn't sure if I'd have my cats cremated because I felt like I wasn't that attached to them, but I was clearly fooling myself. I mean, seriously, I've held onto my cat Jesus who pees inappropriately and has for the last 8 years. Clearly, I can't let them go.
That being said... J has not peed inappropriately since our return. I'm wondering if it was a dominance issue between them. We'll have to wait and see.
J is doing alright, although he's been looking for Mo too. He doesn't seem sad, just confused. I've heard of cats that just let go when their sibling dies, and I never wanted to separate my cats (part of why I never parted with J), so I hope things don't change when he realises Mo is gone forever.
Anyway, we had started calling Jesus "J" a long time ago, but Brendan says that has to happen permanently now. Can't call him Jesus now that there's no Mohammed.
I just want my cat back.
This time of night is the worst because everyone is asleep. And that was our special time. When the whole house was asleep, I would give him his meds, then treats and food, and then cuddle and pet him and love him up.
Really, really want my cat back.