The last two weeks symbolize the highs and the lows of this cat business. On the one hand, two weeks ago we adopted out Steve to a great home; he's now known as Georgie and is settling in well with his new human and cat pals. While he had his own ups and downs, this was a very satisfying end to his time at our house.
The opposite end of the spectrum was realized this past week. At the beginning of February we took in a foster cat as a favor. He had been found on the north side of the neighborhood and the woman who took him off the street couldn't keep him due to allergies. We were going to hold him for a few days until he could be moved to Empty Cages' space. This would mean he would have to spend most of his time in a cage which, though roomy, is still a cage.
We liked him so much, however, we decided just to keep him at our house. He was no bother at all, neat and quiet, and as you see above, quite the looker. His only shortcoming was that he liked to push his water bowl around the floor at night. His room was next our bedroom, so all night long you heard the sound of a heavy ceramic bowl scraping around the room.
He settled in well. we had him neutered, tested for FIV/Felv (neg/neg) and vaccinated (FVRCP all-in-one). He barely noticed the surgery and was in high spirits when he returned to the house. I looked forward to Feb 21st, as ECC was having an adoption event; he'd make his debut at The Show and, I was sure, snag a permanent home.
But on Monday he was not himself. He slept all day, and he kept throwing up. He didn't feel feverish, so I thought it was a hairball. I tried to give him some hairball remedy stuff but he wouldn't eat it (not surprising). Then I tried to give him some chicken baby food; again he wouldn't eat (very surprising). I didn't want to overreact and decided to wait for morning to see how he was doing.
Tuesday morning he was the same. He hadn't touched any of the food I brought him, and I couldn't tell if he had drank any water. I filled a syringe with water to squirt into his throat. A few minutes afterwards, he threw up the water. I knew something was really wrong.
The vet declared him dehydrated and suffering from low body temperature. I hadn't even thought of that, who thinks about anything but fever when somebody's sick? They did bloodwork and set him up with IV fluids and warmed him to get his temperature up. I waited for a diagnosis.
After his first night on fluids and antibiotics, he was still vomiting. The vet thought he might have swallowed something that was stuck in his stomach, but to be sure he took X-rays. The first was inconclusive so they did a barium study, a series of X-rays after giving the cat barium so it will show up on the film as it moves through the GI tract. Only it didn't move through. Preliminary X-rays showed the barium in his stomach but nothing further. After 3 hours, he threw up the barium. They did a couple more shots to be sure, but nothing was passing through to the intestines.
This seemed to support the theory that he had an obstruction. But another blood test showed his white blood cell count was still dropping. The vet said it could be an aggressive virus, some such viruses can cause stomach inflammation to the point that it seems like an obstruction.
Because of his low white blood cell count and his body temperature regulation issues, they didn't want to operate anyway. The virus theory seemed to be the most likely culprit so they focused on treating that. Unfortunately, the only thing you can do for a virus is try to get the immune system to respond and fight it off. They kept him in fluids and antibiotics (plus some Pepcid for his vomiting) and hoped he could bounce back.
He didn't bounce back. Instead, he had a seizure. They sedated him and kept doing everything they could to bolster his immune system. For a while, he was stable and the approach seemed to be working. But Friday the vet called with that sober sound in his voice and I knew it was going to bad news.
He had passed away, his system just couldn't pick up enough steam to fight off the infection. The vet believes he had panleukopenia, which he probably got when he was still on the street. It's highly contagious and is one of those diseases that is easily prevented with that all-in-one vaccination he received. But of course, it can't work if you've already got the virus.
The vet and the animal clinic were very good to us. They didn't charge for a lot of stuff I know the could have. The vet was clearly upset about the outcome, which makes dealing with it easier. But obviously, it sucks. We only had him for 3 weeks, and one of those weeks he was at the vets' most of the time.
He was maybe 9 months old. He clearly wasn't an alley cat, he was very social and extremely clean for a cat you find on the street. I had looked for lost-cat listings/flyers but I never saw any evidence that anyone was looking for him. Somebody had owned him, that was certain. But whoever that was put him out on the street in the middle of one of the harsher winters we've had in a few years. I know most people don't spend as much time as I do thinking about cats, but come on.
We had wondered what he'd look like when he grew up and filled out but now thinking of that feels spooky. He's not going to grow up, we won't get to see how his personality develops, we won't be finding the right home for him to live out his days. He's already gone and that sucks. It sucks because it didn’t have to happen. I suppose there’s never been a situation that ended in death that seemed completely okay. You always imagine it working out differently. You always second-guess.
Some photos
