UPDATE 10/1/2015
Last night we had to make the very hard decision to let Chaos go peacefully. I came home from work and it was very obvious that the disease had progressed extremely rapidly. The neurological signs were present. She wasn't in pain but she was not herself. Making that decision wasn't for us...it was for her. We were with her until the end. I will always love her.
Last night I had a dream that brought incredible comfort to me. I was there in the vet's office crying over her. She was ragged and thin. My dad appeared above me. He was the fat, happy Stan the Man dressed in his overalls with a red t-shirt. He had a toothpick in his mouth. He said, "Red...you know I don't usually do cats. But I'll take good care of her for ya."
He reached down and picked her up. As he did, she changed from the sickly kitty into the ferocious, bitchy Chaos who ruled our lives.
Then they were walking down the gravel road off at the house back home. Leroy and Jack were on his left jumping and prancing to his left and she was on his right just prancing. She looked back with that saucy grin. Her coat was thick and full. She was all filled out. Dad did the Stan wave and they went off.
My heart filled with joy and I slept. I'm still sad and lonely but I know he's got her.
Professor Chaos –
I am going to admit, first and foremost, that there is no
way I’m going to get through writing this without a bare minimum of twelve
tissues. I’ve been a crying wreck since yesterday. An absolute crying disaster
because I do not cry prettily, I’m not a dainty sniffler. I’m not a dew eyed
waif gently dabbing at the corner of her eye as she sighs. No, I’m a wracking sobber
who blows out gobs of snot and has red eyes swollen shut. I blast my emotions
on high volume normally and with grief I ratchet that bitch up to a 100.
Professor Chaos is dying. Okay you melodramatic asses,
everyone is dying and we have been doing so since we first drew breath from our
mother’s womb. I mean she is dying of a disease. She was diagnosed yesterday
with Feline Infectious Peritonitis. It’s a coronary virus that is surprisingly
common but is not commonly active. There are two forms, wet and dry. Wet has a
shelf life of about 3-5 days when it becomes “active” because it involves an
effusion of fluid in the abdomen and chest cavity. Essentially the cat cannot
breathe and smothers.
In the dry form the cat has a host of other symptoms and
will eventually develop the wet form or will develop neurologic problems. It
can take time though. Once diagnosed, the disease may progress between weeks or
it may take a year since the symptoms are quite vague. The waiting game is
horrible.
I hate the waiting game. I hate that I love this cat so
much. I hate that I have to be the one to force food down her every night and
that she looks at me as the bad guy for forcing medicine into her. I don’t get
to be the cuddle one. I have to clean her face up from the nutritional paste
and try not to think about how much I’m going to miss her.
I want to delete every single picture of her and pretend
that I hate her. I want to look at my bank account and get mad at all the vet
bills and think about how expensive all these treatments and visits are and how
it is impacting our lives. I want to hate her. I want her to turn up her nose
at me and go to Dave for petting. I don’t want to see how cute she is and I don’t
want to feel how much my heart breaks at the thought of her not being on my bed
acting like a little Arctic Fox pounding at her toy moving under the covers.
I want to banish every bit of light that kitty ever brought
to my life. I want to forget that she is my first kitten that I loved. I hate
that she is ripping me apart. I hate that a 6lb kitten has taken my heart and
that when she dies, that piece is going to be gone. I hate that. I want to hate
her and I can’t and that sucks.
Is this like losing a loved one? No it is not. Losing a pet
is incredibly different. It is a different kind of pain. I can see people
around me today at work looking at me with this look on their faces. A look
that says, “What’s the big deal? It’s just a cat.” No. She is not JUST a cat.
She is MY cat. Some people can be pet owners and have a pet. I’m not a pet
owner. She is my family, just a furrier member of my family, so yeah…it is a
big deal to me.
Will I recover from this? Yes, because that is what we do
with life. But I have a long road ahead with lots of sadness. This illness can
be brutal. It can be quick or it can be lengthy. All I can do is pray that she
never suffers and that I can make sure she is taken care of and pampered.
I wish I could hate her. It would make this easier. But I
don’t. I love this little kitty. I love that she is bitchy. I love that she
never wakes up pretty. I love that she looks ratchet quite often. I love her.
When she is gone I will continue to love her. I don’t know if I’ll ever have
another cat. I can’t think of that right now because all of my love is focused
on her. So I’ll continue to feed her every night. I’ll wash her face like a
momma cat and I’ll give her medicines and bundle her up. And I’ll pray for a
miracle.
