So, Mozart’s triumphant return home from the vet on Thursday segued into a Friday in which he would not eat, and would not drink. Two tongue-laps of tuna juice was all that we could get into him; he was clearly miserable, and spent a good bit of the morning and early afternoon Under Things. I called the vet to give the follow-up report, fully expecting to hear; “Bring him in; it’s time.”
But the vet had one more trick up his sleeve — prednisone, which, he said, would calm Mozart’s stomach, and also increase his appetite. Asyouknowbob, it’s also a steroid and very hard on the kidneys, and Mozart is in kidney failure. Steve did go into town to pick up the medicine, since the run of treatment is seven days. He may, says the vet, become seduced back to eating in seven days.
So, we’re doing it, but I worry that we may have crossed a line. We have, when confronted with The Choice in the past, always erred on the side of No Suffering. We do everything we can during their lives to be sure that our cats live in a place where Nothing Bad Happens To Cats. We try to be sure that they cross when they are ready; we haven’t ever tried to prolong their stay into the place where there’s no joy, just because it’s hard to say good-bye. In retrospect, I think we kept Socks with us a little too long. Had we had the cancer diagnosis sooner. . .but the vets were — as they should have been — looking for horses instead of zebras, and we could only do the best we knew how.
Mozart. . .is fading. We know he’s not going to “get better.” I just wish I had a better handle on where he is, and how he feels.
So, that. . .
Writing is happening; and a book is taking form, a surprising book in a number of ways. It always amazes me how logical my backbrain is, in its own chaotic fashion.
In Archers Beach news: This is a Distant Early Warning for those folks who want to have a signed or signed-and-personalized copy of Carousel Seas to go with their signed or signed-and-personalized copy of Carousel Sun: Uncle Hugo will again be taking preorders for signed books. This is a DISTANT EARLY WARNING, not a Call to Action. Actual pre-ordering will not open until after Labor Day. We’ll tell you when.
And? I think that’s all the news that’s fit to print.
The Choice is never easy. How can it be, to be in authority over another creature? But we’re called to be good stewards of the Earth and all who live on it. I wish you peace in your decision-making. My heart goes out to you and the other Cat Farm residents.
It’s always hard to know where that line is. We did radiation with MacBeth, and got 18 months of good time with him after. But with the recurrence and chemo, it was clearly Time. I spent a night cuddling him, and in the morning took him in to the vet. Here’s hoping Mozart rallies with the steroids and feels better.
Hugs and scritches to all. May you and Mozart find your way and be able to enjoy his days without too much worry.
Ah, so sorry, so familiar with these tough days of trying to figure out the right course of action.
Truly thought it was the end for our Levi almost a year ago, when he was pretty much not eating (as I’ve mentioned, he, too, is in renal failure. And 18). The vet put him on an appetite stimulant, mirtazipine; didn’t help much, and I thought, well, that’s it, then. But vet added a second appetite stimulant, whose name I can never recall, and … Levi now eats. A lot. He even gained back the weight he’d lost. No idea, of course, whether any of that is relevant to your Mozart; I merely offer it in the event it turns out to be worth anything. And, of course, at 18, I know well enough Levi’s time, too, is limited. At the moment he spends a lot of time sleeping in the sun, and wanting snuggles. I … spend a lot of time analyzing his fur texture, actions and meows… (he feels good! He doesn’t feel good … He feels good! etc).
Best wishes to you all, in whatever direction things go.
Sympathy for you and for Mozart. As the servant of another older cat (pushing 20) it’s never easy to know when, or how, things will work out.
Our Mozart is also failing, and I am struggling with the same sorts of questions you are. Every time I look at (our)Mozart, I have been thinking of you, Steve, and Mozart, and wishing the best for all three of you as you navigate this difficult time.