Life Without Yums

It all started when we returned from a three-day visit to my Dad's for a belated Christmas gathering. Upon our return, our beloved cat Yummy was not feeling well. We also noted strange behaviour from Claire, our other cat, who, not being the most sentimental of animals, was laying by her and snuggling her.

So we loved on Yummy as we always did, and gave her some anti-nausea meds for her vomiting. She started to follow me around more than usual, asking to be scooped up, which I did happily. I was a sucker for that cat. She'd sprawl out in my arms as if on the branch of a tree and I'd hold and pet her until my arm got sore. I'd walk off to do the dishes, and there she was - again at my feet.

The last night we had her I did the dishes with my legs spread as she lay there directly below me. I actually took this as a good sign - I was assuming that she just had a tummy ache, and that she'd get better, and that before long, that 8 year old cat would be back to her usual ways - waiting for me to turn a corner and look her way, at which point she'd take off running - usually down the stairs, where I'd chase after her and either wrestle with her or flick one of her favorite cat toys - small, crumpled up pieces of paper, her way.

The night before we took her in, we slid her under our "tee-pee'd" bed covers, where she usually spent the evenings while we watched TV or read. At some point during the night she hopped down (or I set her down; I don't remember) and we awoke later to the sound of her throwing up - this time, it was only water. That was when we were certain it was time for the vet to fix her.

My wife took her in on Thursday. Our vet hydrated her and would keep her overnight for observation until the blood work results came back the next morning. We got a call from the vet Thursday night indicating Yummy was comfortable, and that we would find out more on Friday morning.

I believe the doctors were expecting a full recovery until the blood work came in. Yummy's markers were higher than the vet has ever seen, indicating severe kidney failure. I couldn't believe it. When I got to the vet on Friday, she looked good though, much better than the day before I thought. I was certain she'd pull through based on her appearance, despite the 20% chance she was given to live. She was young and active. No way was my cat gonna die then.

We agreed to proceed with hydration. How could we not? We were told that, by Monday, we would know if she was going to be OK - whether her kidneys would recover. So instead of going back that afternoon to be with her, we waited until Saturday morning.

Saturday was January 6th. A bit before 10:00 am, we walked into the vet, where there is a window into the Kitty Condo. There was an I.V. dangling down into one of the lower cages. We couldn't see her, but we knew she was in there. The doctor said that, although she urinated last night, which gave her much hope, she hasn't gone since, and vomited on some food that she was force fed. At that point, I had this terrible feeling in my stomach. We finally got escorted back into the room where they kept her, and she looked horrible. Just horrible. The tech looked at her and immediately sent for the vet, who checked her heart and lungs and said her lungs were filling up with fluid  the fluid that she was being hydrated with but could not expel. The fluid meant to save her was killing her.

As a family, we held Yummy for awhile in the vet's break room, and then, after the kids said goodbye, my wife took them to a babysitter. I held Yummy for about an hour by myself and sang to her a worship song about how God gives, and takes away. I was praying for a miracle that didn't come. My wife got back and held her. Yummy looked up at me and meowed at me this sad little meow, the last of three times that day, each time breaking my heart a little more.

I don't have to write about the last moments of her life because I will never forget them. She finally died at 12:20. That was two days ago, and I'm still here, missing and mourning. This morning, as I opened the curtain and stepped out of the shower, she was not right there to greet me, so I need to stop expecting to see her. Nor do I need to pour an extra bit of milk for her when I have breakfast, or leave a little left for her in my emptied cereal bowl for her to finish, any longer. Our morning routine, when the rest of the house was asleep, when it was just her and me, has ended.

It's been a while since a real tragedy happened in my life, and almost a year since my Mom died, and though nothing can compare to those sorts of things, it doesn't seem to get any easier. I despise death.

I have friends who have recently lost loved ones (as I myself have), and others who are going through desperate times. What I have written is not intended to belittle anyone's loss, or to diminish the significance of any real life crisis. This is written to honor and remember a beloved pet who meant a lot to me, and this activity helps me to grieve over what has turned out to be a real loss.