I’ve not been in the mood to write words about what I’ve been doing over the past few days.
In short, both Anna and I have been crying an awful lot over the mad cat.
She’s still with us, still hanging on, still fighting.
Bless.
We were very late to seeing the warning signs last Friday. She stayed in bed until around luncheon.
We raised the alarm at about 2pm and rushed her to the vet. Her respiratory rate was as high as 70; the norm is 25-30.
A painful decision was then presented to us, with only ten minutes to make it: with the vet about to close for the weekend, do we say our farewells there and then, or give her one last chance in the emergency weekend vet?
We couldn’t just give up on her like that.
Of course we were incredibly mindful of her own inner peace. But the vet reassured us that the emergency vet should be able to control the breathing in the short term.
And so the weekend was spent without the mad cat. The house had an emptiness to it that I have not experienced in over five years now.
Saturday and Sunday were painful. We had to carry on and keep occupied. Doing nothing just led to more tears.
Everywhere we look in the house and the mad cat is here with us. She had taken over our home and become part of our small family.
And so that has been the past 72 hours or so. Regular phone calls with the wonderful emergency vet have been reassuring.
Her respiratory levels are now more or less stabilised as to where they should be. But she has a heart problem that isn’t going to get any better.
The mad cat is only 8 years old. I genuinely thought we would both grow old very gracefully together over the next decade 🙁
I was given a discharge time for late afternoon on Monday. It should have been celebratory, but I still can’t stop the tears.
But the mad cat is back home - her home where we hope she will continue to stay, as long as this is where she wants to be.
The future - if there is to be one - will be tough. She needs constant medication to control her heart rate.
We fail badly with the monthly worming sessions.
I’m not sure how much I’m going to update this space moving forwards. More of the same, or possibly radio silence.
Everything is uncertain.
But as I type out these words, she is currently resting beside me. She looks transformed from the alarming state she was in on Friday.
But her life has been transformed.
Our role is make whatever is left a happy experience for her.
I can’t remember the last time I cried so much.
Oh yeah - I went for a swim, did some work, watched some t20 cricket on TV.
Life, eh?