Let me tell you about my cat
This is Puca.
I met Puca four years ago when I started dating his owner, Kat. He’s super friendly, bold, and like most cats with Siamese blood, very chatty. Within moments he’d started begging for attention, meowing at me, and rubbing up against my legs. He does this with basically everyone he meets. He’s a cat who just loves people.
Smart, too. Quickly figured out that it was easy to manipulate me into getting up and giving him his breakfast. It’s my fault, I guess, teaching him that if he made enough noise I’d get up and feed him. His favorite gambit was to slam the door shut then act all distressed that he couldn’t leave the room.
He doesn’t like being picked up. Or brushed. He likes being around people, though. Even if he’s not the center of attention, he’ll happily just sit and chill in proximity to anyone around, happily dozing, thrilled just to not be alone. He’s active, too, racing around at night with our other cat, playing happily. You’d never guess he was 14.
Puca’s sick.
We don’t know with what. His appetite has petered off, he’s displaying signs of nausea. The vet’s bloodwork shows an elevated white-count, but no other signs or symptoms. Frankly, they’re not sure what’s wrong either, other than some guesses about pancreatitis.
The other day we tried to feed him some antibiotics blended into tuna pills, and he gagged so hard that his heart literally skipped a beat. His legs went out, he hit his head, he released his bladder, and he collapsed, limp.
We were certain that This Was It.
It wasn’t.
We got him to the emergency vet and he’d recovered some by the time he arrived. She told us he’d had a vagal event. A gag reflex so strong that it stopped his heart for a moment. We were relieved, but still concerned, and got him shots for antibiotics, anti-nausea, and appetite.
And now… now we’re in that impossible waiting game where we try to see if he gets better or worse. In some ways he’s been better. Less lethargic. But he’s still not eating much. Still showing signs of nausea when offered food. I’m pretty sure that it’s only a lack of impulse control that’s enabling him to overcome his nausea and eat at all.
In a few days we’re going to have to take him in for another antibiotic shot, and there we’re going to have to decide whether or not to pay for more diagnostic treatments. We can’t afford to, but we can’t just do nothing, you know?
We’re running a GoFundMe campaign to try and raise the money for his medical expenses. If you’ve read this, are sympathetic, and can afford to give a few dollars, we’d appreciate it. If you can’t afford it and want to help by spreading the word, we’d appreciate that too.
Either way, thank you for taking the time to read me talk about my cat and how worried I am about him. That helps.
UPDATE:
We took puka in for an ultrasound. They found nodules in his kidneys and inflammation throughout his digestive system. The most likely diagnosis are lymphoma, or an incurable infection called Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP).
In short, he’s dying. There’s no real treatment for FIP, and given the slim chances it’s not worth subjecting him to the chemotherapy to treat lymphoma. The question becomes one of deciding how long we can keep him comfortable for before it’s time to let go.
The anti-nausea meds will allow him to eat, so there’s that. But we must now decide the point at which his right to live is outweighed by his right to not suffer.
Questions? You are invited to either leave a comment below, or ask directly through the comment form.
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