Squeeky passed away near the end of November, 2009.
Earlier this month, I had my cat Squeeky examined for what was diagnosed as a benign sarcoma on his rear ped, that was treated with an injected two-week antibiotic. During that exam, the doctor gave him a clean bill of health with everything else, hoping the antibiotics would reduce the sarcoma so it could be surgically excised.
Up until three days ago, Squeeky was as active and affectionate and playful as he's always been his whole 12 years.
These past three days he barely ate anything and was so completely lethargic and uncharacteristically detached that last night I realized something was very wrong. I knew I couldn't wait until his regular animal hospital opened to follow up on the antibiotic dosage, and in my gut I knew if I took him to the 24 hour veterinary E.R. I should expect bad news (I just had no idea how bad.)
After we got to the E.R. at 6:30 AM, the doctor examined him, and an x-ray revealed several tumorous masses in his lungs that the doctor believed had metastasized. She told me I needed to make the decision to have him euthanized, or hospitalized within 12-24 hours. Little did I know earlier that the sarcoma was probably the manifestation of something that was probably already in his organs. I didn't feel I could make the decision an hour after bringing him in, so I decided to take him home to spend a final day with him before calling a home vet to come over to put him to rest in the familiar and peaceful surroundings of home and so my parents and other family could also say a last goodbye.
An hour after we returned from the E.R. and before anyone other than my mother could say goodbye to him while I was enroute getting his bed and some food from my apartment so he'd stay comfortable, he passed away, sparing me from the difficult decision I had to make having him hospitalized or put to sleep. It's as if he knew how hard this was for me and didn't want me to have to always question if I was making the right choice. He was one of the sweetest animals I have ever had the good fortune of bonding with and I was blessed that he came into my life in 1997 when a hobo gave him to me outside a 7-11 in Los Angeles.
We never feel like we do enough or have enough time with our loved ones, whether they are our own family or our adopted critters. Today I am thankful I had 12 years with him as my companion and friend who kept me company during many difficult times, and a family and friends who have been so supportive during this very painful time.
Earlier this month, I had my cat Squeeky examined for what was diagnosed as a benign sarcoma on his rear ped, that was treated with an injected two-week antibiotic. During that exam, the doctor gave him a clean bill of health with everything else, hoping the antibiotics would reduce the sarcoma so it could be surgically excised.
Up until three days ago, Squeeky was as active and affectionate and playful as he's always been his whole 12 years.
These past three days he barely ate anything and was so completely lethargic and uncharacteristically detached that last night I realized something was very wrong. I knew I couldn't wait until his regular animal hospital opened to follow up on the antibiotic dosage, and in my gut I knew if I took him to the 24 hour veterinary E.R. I should expect bad news (I just had no idea how bad.)
After we got to the E.R. at 6:30 AM, the doctor examined him, and an x-ray revealed several tumorous masses in his lungs that the doctor believed had metastasized. She told me I needed to make the decision to have him euthanized, or hospitalized within 12-24 hours. Little did I know earlier that the sarcoma was probably the manifestation of something that was probably already in his organs. I didn't feel I could make the decision an hour after bringing him in, so I decided to take him home to spend a final day with him before calling a home vet to come over to put him to rest in the familiar and peaceful surroundings of home and so my parents and other family could also say a last goodbye.
An hour after we returned from the E.R. and before anyone other than my mother could say goodbye to him while I was enroute getting his bed and some food from my apartment so he'd stay comfortable, he passed away, sparing me from the difficult decision I had to make having him hospitalized or put to sleep. It's as if he knew how hard this was for me and didn't want me to have to always question if I was making the right choice. He was one of the sweetest animals I have ever had the good fortune of bonding with and I was blessed that he came into my life in 1997 when a hobo gave him to me outside a 7-11 in Los Angeles.
We never feel like we do enough or have enough time with our loved ones, whether they are our own family or our adopted critters. Today I am thankful I had 12 years with him as my companion and friend who kept me company during many difficult times, and a family and friends who have been so supportive during this very painful time.
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