It's been a really long time since I have had time to write. Every once in a while I have one of those years where I spend a lot of time in the office...this seems to be one of those years. This week, I have been getting in at 6:30 a.m. and leaving at 6 p.m., and even then bringing stuff home with me. I'm getting really tired of this particular case. It is a lot of work, and stress. I'm ok with that, but I would like a break. I should not complain because I went on a stitching weekend a few weeks ago and had a wonderful time. I started and finished one piece, and completed another one too.
But that's about it for my free time. I just hope this case settles before we go to Scotland for the Elusive One's graduation.
Speaking of EO, today is his birthday. He's pretty happy today. Not just because it's his birthday, but because he is finished with classes etc. He defended his disseration today (hope that went well). And the best news was that he has been accepted to a postgraduate degree program...in Scotland. Yippee! I foresee more visits to Scotland in the future!
So, it may take me a while to write again. I'll try.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Fox Mating Season
OK, so I know that there are people who actually get up at 4 in the morning to go to work during the week. And there are even people who get up at 4 in the morning on weekends. But I'm usually sleeping soundly, deep in dreams, at 4 a.m. on any given day.
Not last night. Imagine waking to the ungodly sound of a fox, screaming its little mating call right under your window. It is a VERY loud sound, and you might even mistake it for a cat using up its ninth life. But, it's a fox. Making the sound only another fox in search of a mate could enjoy. It echoed through the quiet morning air. Heart pounding, I looked out of our second floor bedroom window to see if I could spot it. Couldn't. But it sounded SO CLOSE. So I stood at the top of the stairs, and it was even louder. I crept down the stairs (each step squeaking loudly) and peered out the window on the front door. The sound was coming from less than five feet away. That fox was on my front porch, which is a big wraparound porch six steps up. Making its God-awful sound. When I tried to peek through the front window at him, he saw the movement and ran down to the walkway below the porch, where he stayed a few moments, then, cheeky thing, he ran back up onto the front porch and started again. Eventually, I had to speak to my favorite husband, who wanted to go outside and suggest to the fox (with a shoe perhaps?) that he might want to take his love sickness elsewhere. When he heard my voice, the fox trotted away, and we didn't hear him again. He was a handsome fellow, very golden, and the size of a very large cat. By now, I was wide awake. I finally got to sleep around 5:00.
I wonder if Daily's heart was pounding? He'd been attacked by a couple of foxes in his early life before we got him. Survived both attacks. I'll bet he knew exactly what that sound was, and was glad to be safe inside. Imagine being a homeless person asleep in the park down below, waking to that sound. I think that's where the term "primal fear" comes from. Fortunately, it was not a wolf.
Not last night. Imagine waking to the ungodly sound of a fox, screaming its little mating call right under your window. It is a VERY loud sound, and you might even mistake it for a cat using up its ninth life. But, it's a fox. Making the sound only another fox in search of a mate could enjoy. It echoed through the quiet morning air. Heart pounding, I looked out of our second floor bedroom window to see if I could spot it. Couldn't. But it sounded SO CLOSE. So I stood at the top of the stairs, and it was even louder. I crept down the stairs (each step squeaking loudly) and peered out the window on the front door. The sound was coming from less than five feet away. That fox was on my front porch, which is a big wraparound porch six steps up. Making its God-awful sound. When I tried to peek through the front window at him, he saw the movement and ran down to the walkway below the porch, where he stayed a few moments, then, cheeky thing, he ran back up onto the front porch and started again. Eventually, I had to speak to my favorite husband, who wanted to go outside and suggest to the fox (with a shoe perhaps?) that he might want to take his love sickness elsewhere. When he heard my voice, the fox trotted away, and we didn't hear him again. He was a handsome fellow, very golden, and the size of a very large cat. By now, I was wide awake. I finally got to sleep around 5:00.
I wonder if Daily's heart was pounding? He'd been attacked by a couple of foxes in his early life before we got him. Survived both attacks. I'll bet he knew exactly what that sound was, and was glad to be safe inside. Imagine being a homeless person asleep in the park down below, waking to that sound. I think that's where the term "primal fear" comes from. Fortunately, it was not a wolf.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Beautiful Weekend
What a beautiful weekend we are having here in gorgeous Northern Virginia. It's about 65 degrees outside, but the wind is blowing like crazy. The sky is as clear as can be. People are out running, riding bikes, walking dogs, doing stuff.
This morning I went to Woodlawn to pick up the piece I had entered in the needlepoint exhibit, and on the drive down GW Parkway, I saw one of the bald eagles (was it Alex or Belle?) dive down into the Potomac and come up with a fish in its talons that my husband would have been proud to catch. It was very large. And then it took off down the river toward Alexandria (which made me think it had to be either Alex or Belle). It was a fantastic sight. I know of the nest near my house (which I really don't think is being used except as a stopping point), and the now-famous one just south of Alexandria. But then, further south on GW Parkway, I saw a bunch of photographers with giant telephoto lenses checking out yet a third nest. I didn't see any eagles, but I don't think there would have been three photographers if there had not been eagles.
It is so damned exciting, having all these eagles! Bald eagles, flying over the nation's capitol...imagine that! And as I turned onto Spout Run on my return drive home, I saw a huge golden raptor flying across the road. I don't know what it was. It was SO big. At first I thought it was one of the bald eagles, but it was the wrong color: all golden. I don't think it was a red tail either, because it was a lot lighter than any red tailed hawk I've seen. Are they a different color here than they are in Texas?
This is so thrilling! So many raptors, so little time to see them!
Tomorrow a friend is coming over to paint. It's supposed to be beautiful again. I hope that we will be able to sit outside on the front porch and enjoy the weather while we paint our watercolors. And wouldn't it be wonderful if one of the eagles or a hawk flew by just for us?
This morning I went to Woodlawn to pick up the piece I had entered in the needlepoint exhibit, and on the drive down GW Parkway, I saw one of the bald eagles (was it Alex or Belle?) dive down into the Potomac and come up with a fish in its talons that my husband would have been proud to catch. It was very large. And then it took off down the river toward Alexandria (which made me think it had to be either Alex or Belle). It was a fantastic sight. I know of the nest near my house (which I really don't think is being used except as a stopping point), and the now-famous one just south of Alexandria. But then, further south on GW Parkway, I saw a bunch of photographers with giant telephoto lenses checking out yet a third nest. I didn't see any eagles, but I don't think there would have been three photographers if there had not been eagles.
It is so damned exciting, having all these eagles! Bald eagles, flying over the nation's capitol...imagine that! And as I turned onto Spout Run on my return drive home, I saw a huge golden raptor flying across the road. I don't know what it was. It was SO big. At first I thought it was one of the bald eagles, but it was the wrong color: all golden. I don't think it was a red tail either, because it was a lot lighter than any red tailed hawk I've seen. Are they a different color here than they are in Texas?
This is so thrilling! So many raptors, so little time to see them!
Tomorrow a friend is coming over to paint. It's supposed to be beautiful again. I hope that we will be able to sit outside on the front porch and enjoy the weather while we paint our watercolors. And wouldn't it be wonderful if one of the eagles or a hawk flew by just for us?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Some Updates
First update is in regards to Wolfie: Daily is beside himself with grief. I have never seen a cat so depressed and lethargic. The first couple of days, he tried desperately to escape the house. I think he was absolutely certain he would find Wolfie outside somewhere. Then he gave that up and commenced wandering from room to room plaintively calling. Those two cats have been together every day for the past 6 or 7 years. And now Daily is miserably lonely. That makes me very sad.
How is Kira handling it? She doesn't seem to care one way or another. It's like she's the princess and it's all about her. What's one cat more or less? But that may not be fair. She keeps checking on Daily. She licks him on the head and lightly nibbles him with her front teeth. So, maybe I'm not reading her right. Maybe she really does miss Wolfie. It just doesn't show the same way.
Second update is regarding Kira. When we got her a year ago, she had major physical and psychological issues. For the first three months, we had to clean up after her every single day, sometimes twice a day. It was like she didn't know how to use the outdoors for her bathroom needs. Now, she is so meticulous that she uses the same part of the yard every day. And she will come to us and sit in front of us and look us in the eyes when she needs to go outside. She is very smart. When we got her, she weighed 58 pounds, and her lips were white and the lower ones hung down significantly. Now, she weighs 63 pounds...it doesn't seem like a huge weight gain and it certainly isn't (the vet thinks she should weigh about 90 pounds), but there have been other changes. We feed her four cups of food a day, the amount called for to feed a 90 pound dog...she eats it all, but to no avail. She simply has a super fast metabolism (for which I am jealous). However, she is now more muscular, and much stronger, and her lips are back in place and the right color. Her coat is beautiful. She holds her head up and wags her tail often. She is definitely OUR dog now. We have cleared up the nightly barking and whining (actually, I think the cats helped her with that by keeping her company). She comes immediately when called. She gets a lot of exercise, and does not spend all her time racing from front door to back door and barking at everyone who passes. When we are all home together, she goes to her cushion in the living room, and stays there content just to be with us. What a beautiful dog. And probably the gentlest dog I have ever known. The other day, I put my whole hand in her mouth and she just licked me. I would NEVER have dreamed of doing that with Ziggy. If I had, I would not be playing the piano any more. So, Kira has made herself very much a part of our lives. She is amazing.
Third update: my bald eagles. I believe that the bald eagles I saw in the nest near our house at the end of last year moved away and started building a nest south of Alexandria in December or January. The nest has been empty. And now it is probably a little late in the season for any eagles to move into it. Occasionally, I see a big beautiful bald eagle flying overhead, but I am not so sure it is one of the two I saw on the nest at the end of last year. This morning, on the drive in, I looked up at the big nest and thought I saw the outline of an eagle. Yes, traffic was thick, but I could not help but look again, and there she was, perched on the side of the nest, as big and beautiful a bald eagle as she should be. What is it about those birds??? I absolutely love them. I don't know if she was checking the nest out as a possible new aerie...but wouldn't it be NICE???
Fourth update: the continuing saga of "Operation Project Room." It is so much easier to move around that room now. It is actually a pleasant place to spend time, on the computer, playing with beads, painting water colors, looking out the window at all the "city wildlife" (squirrels, birds, chipmunks, occasional hawks and eagles, foxes, and even a couple of times a deer or two!). I like it. Of course, I still have about eight file boxes to go through, but I'm not feeling so stressed about the paperwork now.
And now I find myself reading and playing the piano. Right now, I am reading Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dynamiter" in paper format (not on the pony). I didn't even know he had written such a book. But I am enjoying it, even with the rather dense writing.
I'm also playing the piano again. I had it tuned last week, and now that the house is staying clean (with Sara's care), I feel like playing. I'm still working on the Handel Sarabande and today picked up my copy of the Moonlight Sonata. I'd like to relearn that. Interestingly, the first time I played it, I did a MUCH better job than the next four or five times. That's strange.
Ok, so I'm really rambling. I'll quit now.
How is Kira handling it? She doesn't seem to care one way or another. It's like she's the princess and it's all about her. What's one cat more or less? But that may not be fair. She keeps checking on Daily. She licks him on the head and lightly nibbles him with her front teeth. So, maybe I'm not reading her right. Maybe she really does miss Wolfie. It just doesn't show the same way.
Second update is regarding Kira. When we got her a year ago, she had major physical and psychological issues. For the first three months, we had to clean up after her every single day, sometimes twice a day. It was like she didn't know how to use the outdoors for her bathroom needs. Now, she is so meticulous that she uses the same part of the yard every day. And she will come to us and sit in front of us and look us in the eyes when she needs to go outside. She is very smart. When we got her, she weighed 58 pounds, and her lips were white and the lower ones hung down significantly. Now, she weighs 63 pounds...it doesn't seem like a huge weight gain and it certainly isn't (the vet thinks she should weigh about 90 pounds), but there have been other changes. We feed her four cups of food a day, the amount called for to feed a 90 pound dog...she eats it all, but to no avail. She simply has a super fast metabolism (for which I am jealous). However, she is now more muscular, and much stronger, and her lips are back in place and the right color. Her coat is beautiful. She holds her head up and wags her tail often. She is definitely OUR dog now. We have cleared up the nightly barking and whining (actually, I think the cats helped her with that by keeping her company). She comes immediately when called. She gets a lot of exercise, and does not spend all her time racing from front door to back door and barking at everyone who passes. When we are all home together, she goes to her cushion in the living room, and stays there content just to be with us. What a beautiful dog. And probably the gentlest dog I have ever known. The other day, I put my whole hand in her mouth and she just licked me. I would NEVER have dreamed of doing that with Ziggy. If I had, I would not be playing the piano any more. So, Kira has made herself very much a part of our lives. She is amazing.
Third update: my bald eagles. I believe that the bald eagles I saw in the nest near our house at the end of last year moved away and started building a nest south of Alexandria in December or January. The nest has been empty. And now it is probably a little late in the season for any eagles to move into it. Occasionally, I see a big beautiful bald eagle flying overhead, but I am not so sure it is one of the two I saw on the nest at the end of last year. This morning, on the drive in, I looked up at the big nest and thought I saw the outline of an eagle. Yes, traffic was thick, but I could not help but look again, and there she was, perched on the side of the nest, as big and beautiful a bald eagle as she should be. What is it about those birds??? I absolutely love them. I don't know if she was checking the nest out as a possible new aerie...but wouldn't it be NICE???
Fourth update: the continuing saga of "Operation Project Room." It is so much easier to move around that room now. It is actually a pleasant place to spend time, on the computer, playing with beads, painting water colors, looking out the window at all the "city wildlife" (squirrels, birds, chipmunks, occasional hawks and eagles, foxes, and even a couple of times a deer or two!). I like it. Of course, I still have about eight file boxes to go through, but I'm not feeling so stressed about the paperwork now.
And now I find myself reading and playing the piano. Right now, I am reading Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dynamiter" in paper format (not on the pony). I didn't even know he had written such a book. But I am enjoying it, even with the rather dense writing.
I'm also playing the piano again. I had it tuned last week, and now that the house is staying clean (with Sara's care), I feel like playing. I'm still working on the Handel Sarabande and today picked up my copy of the Moonlight Sonata. I'd like to relearn that. Interestingly, the first time I played it, I did a MUCH better job than the next four or five times. That's strange.
Ok, so I'm really rambling. I'll quit now.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Quality of Life
Girl from Texas left a comment on my March 26 entry, saying that there was such a thing as quality of living, and that it was a very important variable in the decision as to when to euthanize a pet.
It made me wonder: What is quality of life for a cat? Except for those rare cats that belong to adventurous people, cats don't go hiking, or to operas, or on vacations to the beach, or out to fancy restaurants. They don't have dinner parties with friends, or read books or go to museums. They don't write blogs, or keep in touch with friends through e-mail, or do creative things like painting and needlepoint and the like.
What is quality of life for a house cat that never goes outside. Wolfie used to sleep on the dog bed, sit in the front window and watch people and dogs go by, then sleep in a little patch of sunlight coming in through the dining room window. Then he would look out the window at birds he cannot chase, and sleep some more. When we got home from work, he was happy to be fed, and then he checked out Kira's bowl to see if she had left him any little tidbits (usually, she did). Then he came to sleep on the sofa near us. We have a little space heater that the cats think of as their own personal little fireplace. Wolfie absolutely loved the "fireplace." If it was not on, he would sit in front of it an look at me, willing me to turn it on for him, so he could curl up on the floor in front of it (his hearth) and ... sleep. But that was it. Sleep, eat, look out the window, be petted, lick Daily, rub against Kira.
I think that quality of life for a house cat must be comfort and love. I have always felt that all of my pets have both comfort and love in spades. They are well cared for and very well loved. But now that he is gone, I have these little doubts...did I love little Wolfie enough? Setting aside religious beliefs, just how much are you supposed to love a pet? I love all my pets, but I am closer to Daily than any of the others. I call him my "familiar." It's like he knows what I am thinking, and he is funny and lively and so affectionate. And yet, I also like to call him the "pain-in-the-butt-cat." I could not imagine going through this with him. Yet, I know someday I will have to. At what point is comfort and love not enough?
I have a dear friend who simply could not say goodbye to a cat that was dying of stomach cancer, and with excellent veterinarian care, she managed to keep that little cat alive for six more months (at a cost of $12,000). She said she just could not stand the thought of not having this little being with her. Now, well removed from the event, she says she wishes she hadn't put the little cat through all that. But in my opinion, it wasn't just the cat that suffered. She put herself through so much grief over those six months, trying to prolong the inevitable. As it is, I feel really bad about how long Wolfie had his asthma. He didn't seem to have any real trouble living with it for 8 years, but lately it started to act up more and more. I think the secondary infection is what caused the collapsed lung. But then again, I am not a vet.
I do miss Wolfie very much. I miss his sweet little face, with the black lips that look like a kiss. I miss his funny little sound like a purr and meow put together... "gwaww." I really miss the way he would sit on the stool in the kitchen and reach out to pat me with his paw. He was so endearing when he sat up on his haunches and reached out with both paws to grab my arm.
I think we second guess ourselves whenever we have to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I regret the loss of Rocky, Toby, Sadie, Ziggy, and now Wolfie. But I cannot regret letting them into my life and my heart. There's nothing like being greeted at the door by those loving little faces after a rough day at the office.
And so, I know I will face the loss again and again, as long as I bring these little beings into my life. Which I will continue to do. Will I get another cat any time soon? I don't think so...at least not right now. Someday, maybe. Not now.
It made me wonder: What is quality of life for a cat? Except for those rare cats that belong to adventurous people, cats don't go hiking, or to operas, or on vacations to the beach, or out to fancy restaurants. They don't have dinner parties with friends, or read books or go to museums. They don't write blogs, or keep in touch with friends through e-mail, or do creative things like painting and needlepoint and the like.
What is quality of life for a house cat that never goes outside. Wolfie used to sleep on the dog bed, sit in the front window and watch people and dogs go by, then sleep in a little patch of sunlight coming in through the dining room window. Then he would look out the window at birds he cannot chase, and sleep some more. When we got home from work, he was happy to be fed, and then he checked out Kira's bowl to see if she had left him any little tidbits (usually, she did). Then he came to sleep on the sofa near us. We have a little space heater that the cats think of as their own personal little fireplace. Wolfie absolutely loved the "fireplace." If it was not on, he would sit in front of it an look at me, willing me to turn it on for him, so he could curl up on the floor in front of it (his hearth) and ... sleep. But that was it. Sleep, eat, look out the window, be petted, lick Daily, rub against Kira.
I think that quality of life for a house cat must be comfort and love. I have always felt that all of my pets have both comfort and love in spades. They are well cared for and very well loved. But now that he is gone, I have these little doubts...did I love little Wolfie enough? Setting aside religious beliefs, just how much are you supposed to love a pet? I love all my pets, but I am closer to Daily than any of the others. I call him my "familiar." It's like he knows what I am thinking, and he is funny and lively and so affectionate. And yet, I also like to call him the "pain-in-the-butt-cat." I could not imagine going through this with him. Yet, I know someday I will have to. At what point is comfort and love not enough?
I have a dear friend who simply could not say goodbye to a cat that was dying of stomach cancer, and with excellent veterinarian care, she managed to keep that little cat alive for six more months (at a cost of $12,000). She said she just could not stand the thought of not having this little being with her. Now, well removed from the event, she says she wishes she hadn't put the little cat through all that. But in my opinion, it wasn't just the cat that suffered. She put herself through so much grief over those six months, trying to prolong the inevitable. As it is, I feel really bad about how long Wolfie had his asthma. He didn't seem to have any real trouble living with it for 8 years, but lately it started to act up more and more. I think the secondary infection is what caused the collapsed lung. But then again, I am not a vet.
I do miss Wolfie very much. I miss his sweet little face, with the black lips that look like a kiss. I miss his funny little sound like a purr and meow put together... "gwaww." I really miss the way he would sit on the stool in the kitchen and reach out to pat me with his paw. He was so endearing when he sat up on his haunches and reached out with both paws to grab my arm.
I think we second guess ourselves whenever we have to say goodbye to a beloved pet. I regret the loss of Rocky, Toby, Sadie, Ziggy, and now Wolfie. But I cannot regret letting them into my life and my heart. There's nothing like being greeted at the door by those loving little faces after a rough day at the office.
And so, I know I will face the loss again and again, as long as I bring these little beings into my life. Which I will continue to do. Will I get another cat any time soon? I don't think so...at least not right now. Someday, maybe. Not now.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Remind me, please, why we have animals?
I need to be reminded of what they add to our lives…other than pain of loss, which is what I am feeling right now. I am very sad.
Yesterday, when I got home, and immediately after letting Kira out to do her business, I saw (rather than heard) Wolfie struggling in the kitchen. He was crouched down, with his neck stretched out, and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was desperately struggling to breathe. I grabbed the phone and called our vet’s office to say I was watching a cat suffocate before my eyes. “Bring him in.” Usually, he meows during the drive to and from the vet, but yesterday night he couldn’t get enough air to say anything. As soon as I got him in, they took him back and started him on oxygen, which eased his breathing somewhat.
Wolfie has had asthma for the past 8 or 9 years. They suggested steroids when it started, but my research on steroids made me VERY suspect. If steroids are bad for humans, why would they be any better for cats? They weaken the kidneys and are bad for the heart. He would have to be given a pill every morning and every evening, and he absolutely HATES pills. Daily is a dream when it comes to pills, but Wolfie (as sweet as he is), fights every inch of the way. Imagine forcing a pill down that cat’s throat every day for the past 8 years…
Well, the asthma caught up with him yesterday. The vet immediately started him on oxygen and gave him albuterol and steroids and antibiotics. They wanted to keep him for observation, so I went back to see him, and when I petted him he leaned back into my hand, and looked so much more comfortable with the oxygen, which the technician was holding up to his face. Then they called me at 9:00 p.m. and said he really needed to be watched during the night and could we take him to a 24-hour facility (about 20 miles away). We paid our $300 there and took him to the emergency clinic, where they immediately put him in an oxygen cage. The vet told us that the x-ray of his chest showed a collapsed lung, and that he has a heart murmur, as well as a secondary infection along with the asthma.
But this is what is so difficult for us right now: when we were kids, vets didn’t do all these heroics to save family pets. They just said: “well, it’s time to let him go.” But now, vets have their own form of “Hippocratic oath” and will try to do anything to save an animal, regardless of the long-range outcome. This vet was really good when it came to trying to save Wolfie. She said, keep him on oxygen for three days, let the antibiotics take effect on the secondary infection, let the steroids help get rid of the asthma, and see if he doesn’t come around. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Can we inflate the collapsed lung, I ask. Well, no, it would be too dangerous. Then she adds that what actually looks like a collapsed lung may be pneumonia (which is not really as common in cats as you might think). Or, it may be blockage due to the asthma. Will he be able to come off of the oxygen in a couple of days? Well, we hope so. Will we be able to get rid of the asthma with the steroids? That is the plan and the hope. How much to leave him over night? $1500! (OMG) Three days? $4500 (Triple OMG). What happens after three days if he is not able to get off of the oxygen? We can reassess the options then.
Wow! Smack me in the face! OK, so, now we have a 15-year-old cat, with a collapsed lung, heart murmur, severe asthma, and an inability to breathe without oxygen. If we clear up the asthma, how long will do we think that will last? Unknown. So, in other words, I could come home someday and see him gasping like a fish again, or worse, find a poor little cat body with a horrific look on its face from suffocating to death. Do we leave him there, in the comfort of an oxygen cage for however long it takes, or do we take him home and try to administer an albuterol inhaler when he has trouble breathing? Well, no, you can’t take the albuterol home because it causes stress on the heart and he needs to be monitored.
In the end, we left him over night, at a negotiated much-reduced cost. This morning at 5:00, the vet tried to take him off of the oxygen for 30 minutes, and he went into breathing distress. H and I discussed the situation. Feeling like total and complete heels, we decided it was time to let him go. We phoned the emergency vet with our decision. But when H got to the emergency clinic (I simply could not accompany him, after my experience with Ziggy last March), they had Wolfie in the crate, ready to be brought home to face another day. I think they did not want to be the ones to put him to sleep…sending us a clear message of their displeasure with us, maybe? H called me when he got to the house and said Woofums was in terrible distress. Kira and Daily were very upset…they knew Wolfie was in bad shape. H said he understood what I had felt yesterday. It brought tears to his eyes. In fact, I have tears in mine right now with the memory. So he took Wolfie to our regular vet to do the sad final deed. He says that by the time he got there, Wolfie was laying on his side with his head (wet from Kira’s administrations) against the side of the carrier, struggling. The vet took one look at him and said he looked much worse than he had yesterday, before the oxygen. Personally, I think the oxygen may have helped him in the short run, but it created a dependency that made him worse in the long run.
We could have done what the emergency vet suggested: we could have spent a lot of money keeping him going in an oxygen cage for a week or so (ka-ching, ka-ching), in the hopes that we would clear up the infection, might clear up the asthma (not likely, considering that he has had it at least 8 years), perhaps address the heart murmur, maybe clear the collapsed lung (if it is pneumonia). And then who knows how long he would live after all that, my geriatric little cat?
This morning, when we were discussing all the “options,” I told H that I just could not make the decision, and would he please make it for me (you know what decision I was talking about, of course). He said “will you still love me after I do?” Heck, I think I love him even more for having done it and keeping me from having to say the obvious. I mean, I had already come to the conclusion that I wanted HIM to take responsibility for but could not bring myself to cast the deciding vote. What a wimp I am. H did it.
So, my sweet tomato-snatching Wolfgang Amadeus Sunwolf Lightfoot (named by my Elusive Offspring, and you will recognize my blog name) is gone now. At lunch, my friend Janet and I toasted our cats and their ability to give us years of great pleasure, ending with the sharp pain of loss. I enjoyed my 15 years of the Wolfman. I hope he’s breathing easy and chasing butterflies in that great kitty heaven above.
Yesterday, when I got home, and immediately after letting Kira out to do her business, I saw (rather than heard) Wolfie struggling in the kitchen. He was crouched down, with his neck stretched out, and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He was desperately struggling to breathe. I grabbed the phone and called our vet’s office to say I was watching a cat suffocate before my eyes. “Bring him in.” Usually, he meows during the drive to and from the vet, but yesterday night he couldn’t get enough air to say anything. As soon as I got him in, they took him back and started him on oxygen, which eased his breathing somewhat.
Wolfie has had asthma for the past 8 or 9 years. They suggested steroids when it started, but my research on steroids made me VERY suspect. If steroids are bad for humans, why would they be any better for cats? They weaken the kidneys and are bad for the heart. He would have to be given a pill every morning and every evening, and he absolutely HATES pills. Daily is a dream when it comes to pills, but Wolfie (as sweet as he is), fights every inch of the way. Imagine forcing a pill down that cat’s throat every day for the past 8 years…
Well, the asthma caught up with him yesterday. The vet immediately started him on oxygen and gave him albuterol and steroids and antibiotics. They wanted to keep him for observation, so I went back to see him, and when I petted him he leaned back into my hand, and looked so much more comfortable with the oxygen, which the technician was holding up to his face. Then they called me at 9:00 p.m. and said he really needed to be watched during the night and could we take him to a 24-hour facility (about 20 miles away). We paid our $300 there and took him to the emergency clinic, where they immediately put him in an oxygen cage. The vet told us that the x-ray of his chest showed a collapsed lung, and that he has a heart murmur, as well as a secondary infection along with the asthma.
But this is what is so difficult for us right now: when we were kids, vets didn’t do all these heroics to save family pets. They just said: “well, it’s time to let him go.” But now, vets have their own form of “Hippocratic oath” and will try to do anything to save an animal, regardless of the long-range outcome. This vet was really good when it came to trying to save Wolfie. She said, keep him on oxygen for three days, let the antibiotics take effect on the secondary infection, let the steroids help get rid of the asthma, and see if he doesn’t come around. Sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Can we inflate the collapsed lung, I ask. Well, no, it would be too dangerous. Then she adds that what actually looks like a collapsed lung may be pneumonia (which is not really as common in cats as you might think). Or, it may be blockage due to the asthma. Will he be able to come off of the oxygen in a couple of days? Well, we hope so. Will we be able to get rid of the asthma with the steroids? That is the plan and the hope. How much to leave him over night? $1500! (OMG) Three days? $4500 (Triple OMG). What happens after three days if he is not able to get off of the oxygen? We can reassess the options then.
Wow! Smack me in the face! OK, so, now we have a 15-year-old cat, with a collapsed lung, heart murmur, severe asthma, and an inability to breathe without oxygen. If we clear up the asthma, how long will do we think that will last? Unknown. So, in other words, I could come home someday and see him gasping like a fish again, or worse, find a poor little cat body with a horrific look on its face from suffocating to death. Do we leave him there, in the comfort of an oxygen cage for however long it takes, or do we take him home and try to administer an albuterol inhaler when he has trouble breathing? Well, no, you can’t take the albuterol home because it causes stress on the heart and he needs to be monitored.
In the end, we left him over night, at a negotiated much-reduced cost. This morning at 5:00, the vet tried to take him off of the oxygen for 30 minutes, and he went into breathing distress. H and I discussed the situation. Feeling like total and complete heels, we decided it was time to let him go. We phoned the emergency vet with our decision. But when H got to the emergency clinic (I simply could not accompany him, after my experience with Ziggy last March), they had Wolfie in the crate, ready to be brought home to face another day. I think they did not want to be the ones to put him to sleep…sending us a clear message of their displeasure with us, maybe? H called me when he got to the house and said Woofums was in terrible distress. Kira and Daily were very upset…they knew Wolfie was in bad shape. H said he understood what I had felt yesterday. It brought tears to his eyes. In fact, I have tears in mine right now with the memory. So he took Wolfie to our regular vet to do the sad final deed. He says that by the time he got there, Wolfie was laying on his side with his head (wet from Kira’s administrations) against the side of the carrier, struggling. The vet took one look at him and said he looked much worse than he had yesterday, before the oxygen. Personally, I think the oxygen may have helped him in the short run, but it created a dependency that made him worse in the long run.
We could have done what the emergency vet suggested: we could have spent a lot of money keeping him going in an oxygen cage for a week or so (ka-ching, ka-ching), in the hopes that we would clear up the infection, might clear up the asthma (not likely, considering that he has had it at least 8 years), perhaps address the heart murmur, maybe clear the collapsed lung (if it is pneumonia). And then who knows how long he would live after all that, my geriatric little cat?
This morning, when we were discussing all the “options,” I told H that I just could not make the decision, and would he please make it for me (you know what decision I was talking about, of course). He said “will you still love me after I do?” Heck, I think I love him even more for having done it and keeping me from having to say the obvious. I mean, I had already come to the conclusion that I wanted HIM to take responsibility for but could not bring myself to cast the deciding vote. What a wimp I am. H did it.
So, my sweet tomato-snatching Wolfgang Amadeus Sunwolf Lightfoot (named by my Elusive Offspring, and you will recognize my blog name) is gone now. At lunch, my friend Janet and I toasted our cats and their ability to give us years of great pleasure, ending with the sharp pain of loss. I enjoyed my 15 years of the Wolfman. I hope he’s breathing easy and chasing butterflies in that great kitty heaven above.
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