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I’ve been holding on to this/rewriting for a couple of days. Wasn’t sure if these e/n posts are still kosher. Oh god, why did this flip back to 'poo poo Post'? Please change to 'Cats', mod. I feel bad enough.   Sasha came to my family in the spring of 1991, a $50 purchase from a friend of a friend. She joined Gingie, a DSH (1975 - 1995) and Nikko, a Himalayan (1990 - 2004). I was almost turning 6 and completing Senior Kindergarten. She became my best buddy. Nikko and Sasha fell in love, and on August 12, 1992, she had a litter of five kittens. We kept the runt of the litter and named him Baby. The 90s were fairly uneventful for them, minus a heavy windowpane falling and breaking her tail, and a an abscessed tooth that pierced a hole through her cheek. When I was 17, my family moved to a smaller house out in the country. Soon after – about a year, but still – Baby broke through a screened window, and Sasha followed. I wasn't optimistic, we lived directly between a fairly busy 2-lane road and two sets of train tracks. We found Sasha in the morning, sitting on a decorative well in our front yard. We searched all day for Baby with no luck. 5am the next morning, my mom awoke to him meowing and jumping at an open, screen window. We were lucky. Nikko died in 2004, he had never been overly healthy, and being a Himalayan, kidney issues got him. Had I not been a poor 19 year old college student, and knowing what I do now, I would've treated him as best I could. In September 2009, Sasha had a bout of cystitis, and we were told that she had a week to live. I prayed that both cats would live until I hit 25 (June 2010). She was put on Noroclav; the start of a journey on antibiotics. She would be on antibiotics almost constantly over the next four years as the cystitis returned if we didn't. She came around. In the summer of 2010, both Sasha and Baby were diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure. They were put on Zantac, Lactulose and sub-qs. As afraid as I was to stab them every day, I'm glad I started. Through the next 4 years, Sasha would be diagnosed with cancer, heart failure and liver failure as well. She soldiered on.   Baby died March 1, 2013 after a seizure took his sight the night before, and he had started looking for a place to hide/die. As distraught as I was, having Sasha helped ease the pain a bit, and I focused all my attention on her. I would go away on weekend trips during this time, never staying away more than a day and a half, and not too far away so I could hop on the next train home. My mom would give Sasha her meds and my sister would give her sub-qs. This summer, Sasha began to have more and more urine accidents. As much as we didn’t like it, after a while, we began to deal with it. At the end of August, I was at a music festival the next town over, just preparing to head home after about 18 hours there, and I got a phone call. The urine was now bloody.   I came home and called the vet. The antibiotics we had her on probably weren’t effective after 1+ years of using them, so we tried another. And another. At the end of September, nothing was working. Sasha was still eating and such, but we went to the vet anyway. It was then that we found out Sasha’s bladder walls were 20mm thick, and she literally couldn’t hold urine in because there was no room. She gave a list of options, one was putting her down, one was something where she’d have to go under anesthesia, and the third was a two week dose of steroids. This was a Thursday. My mom and I agreed to have her put down, but I needed the weekend with her, so Monday it was. We were given about eight vials of buprenorphine, with directions to give every eight hours. I bawled a lot that weekend. I only got up to pee. On Sunday night, I made the decision to not do it. There was life in her eyes. She was still eating, drinking, pooping (occasionally, we had constipation issues with her) and peeing (although sometimes bloodily, and usually on the floor). I went back on Tuesday to grab the steroids. The vet warned these may kill her. I wasn’t sure Sasha could have both buprenorphine and steroids, so I took her off the bupre and kept them for future use. The two weeks passed without incident, but it didn’t solve the pee issue. Sasha didn’t seem to be in pain, so we just kept on keeping on at that point. The washer and dryer were in use a lot, as she’d pee anywhere. After a while, I wouldn’t try to move her to somewhere more appropriate. Things can be washed, after all. I won tickets to a concert about an hour away. My friend wanted the extra ticket and invited me to crash at her place for the night. I agreed and booked an earlier train back to a further station, as the nearest arrived at 9pm and I didn't want to leave Sasha for a day and a half (I left at 11am Saturday.. without saying goodbye as I usually do). My mom was home to give her meds (I'd already measured them out), and my sister came over to give her sub-q. I checked in Saturday night. Sasha was fine, eating well, and was sleeping on her hot water bottle. My mom took over the role of sleeping with her that night. She did so until 5am, when she got up because she was hanging off the bed (Sasha was sprawled sideways). On Sunday, my parents left to grab me from the train station around 3. My mom said she checked on Sasha just before they left, and said she was sleeping. She had been all day and the rule is to not disturb her when she's sleeping. She did make sure she was still breathing but I don't know how depth the check was. After a stop at KFC, we headed home around 4:45. Before entering my room, I tore the skin off a piece of chicken, soaked up the grease and broke it into bite-size pieces. In the car, we were joking about how she could probably smell the chicken before we even got in the door. I walked in with some chicken, and noticed there was a poo log behind Sasha. Good, I thought, she hadn't pooped in a while and that was a big one for her.I cleaned it up and came back. That's when I noticed something was up. She was in a semi-comatose state: eyes open, and when I tried to sit her up on me, she just flopped over. I attempted to give her chicken and.. nothing. Then cheese, she weakly swatted my hand away. Oh poo poo. A call to the emergency vet later, and I decided to give her one of the two vials of buprenorphine we had left, even though it could've killed her. I held her all night, knowing this was it but hoping it wasn't. Things didn't improve overnight, and before heading to the vet, gave her the last vial of bupre. Around 10:15am, she was given the injection (no sedative needed). Unlike Baby, she fought it, attempting to get up while the vet was injecting her, but failing, and then having the post-death spasms and gasps. I've spent the past five years putting my life aside to take care of Baby and Sasha. I put my life on hold, living with my parents a lot longer than societal norms to take care of them (two man job, and my parents couldn’t afford to keep it up). Sasha was my suck, spent 99% of her time by my side. And I left her when she needed me the most. I can’t get over that. I’m destroyed that she passed away, but I can’t forgive myself for not being here when I should’ve been. Why did I go? I barely even like the band I saw. Why didn’t I take the early train home? Maybe I could’ve gotten home before Sasha did this. It would’ve been traumatic to witness, but at least I would’ve been there. Without her, I don’t feel that my life has meaning. I get up and go to work (and usually tear up/bawl when a sad song is on the radio), but why? I had three jobs to cover vet bills (got it down to 2), but it seems like there’s no purpose. Even worse, I don’t know when exactly this happened, or what it was (maybe a stroke, but the symptoms don’t line up). I wasn’t home when Baby had the seizure that took his sight (I went to my bro’s house, 5 minutes away, for no reason). And now this. But I wasn’t nearly as close to Baby as I was to Sasha. I don’t think Sasha was with it enough to realize that I came back and held her the last 18 hours of her life, and that is what hurts the most. I feel guilty for doing things like buying a new mattress last month (on sale) for post-Sasha, since my old one was full of.. uh.. Sasha’s markings. I feel guilty for tentatively planning a trip to the Rockies to see my friend next June. I know she couldn’t live forever but this is even harder than I’d imagined. I don’t have any memories where Sasha wasn’t around. In a couple weeks, my parents are planning on getting a couple kittens. This is the first time since the 70s that they haven’t had a cat, and I bet it’s weirder for them than it is for me (I’ve never not had an animal around). These ones will not be my responsibility, though. Sasha’s death means I don’t need to live here anymore, and I didn’t exactly plan anything out in advance. I’m afraid I won’t be able to love these cats because they’re not Sasha. I can’t forgive myself for letting her down.  March 1991 – December 1, 2014 Rand McNally fucked around with this message at 15:46 on Dec 5, 2014 |
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Dec 5, 2014 15:07
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| # ? May 14, 2024 11:42 |
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Sasha was 23 years old. In no way whatsoever, on any planet, in any solar system, did you remotely let that cat down.
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Dec 5, 2014 15:20
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She was a good cat. Sorry for your loss. I completely agree with FB's post above.
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Dec 5, 2014 15:37
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Fluffy Bunnies posted:Sasha was 23 years old. In no way whatsoever, on any planet, in any solar system, did you remotely let that cat down. This. Your cat lived long enough to complete a bachelor's degree. You did good.
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Dec 5, 2014 15:44
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Hell, I've had younger postdocs come through my office. You took good care of her and Baby. Don't beat yourself up; remember the good days, too.
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Dec 5, 2014 16:05
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Thanks, guys. There's some underlying guilt from: • going away, and wondering if she was looking for me/needed me there. If I hadn't won the tickets, or hadn't found someone to go with, then I would've been home. • having to have her stay in my room the past three weeks when I wasn't home, barricading the door, due to placing new flooring in the living room. She was getting good at knocking down the plywood, and the day before she had her episode, my sister brought a baby gate to install. We would let her in the kitchen if she wanted out, but barricaded the kitchen door. In both places she had food, water, her bed and a hot water bottle. On Friday, she was in my office but was antsy, and the room is a sty, so I put her in there a good portion of the day while I worked. Guilt. • I may sound crazy, but in my office, where she would be when I worked from home, there is a batch of warfarin under the carpet. A month or two ago, I spotted a mouse crawl out from a gap under the wall, and initially I had the unopened baggie under there, but my dad opened it and spread it that same day. Sasha would lay less than a foot from this, but on a pillow. I'm afraid that somehow she got some, or residue of some and it led to a stroke or something. I'm sitting here bawling because there is a chance I could've killed my cat. She didn't have strength to actually dig around there, but I keep thinking back to when I gave her cat treats on that pillow last week. What if there was some sort of residue? I assume as the days go by it will get easier/I won't cry multiple times a day, but there's so much guilt tied to this. I should've had a post mortem done to ease my mind/cement my guilt.
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Dec 5, 2014 19:17
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You have the magic long living cat touch. When I can I schedule you to snuggle some extra years into mine?
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Dec 7, 2014 05:21
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One week anniversary. I'm still really shook up over it, and wondering if it ever gets better. I found a photo from the 26th of November and just noticed her pupils are really dilated in it. I don't know how I missed it. I can't tell if it was because she was in pain or because of the potential warfarin getting in her system. I don't even know how possible that is/was but I'm going to assume it happened and that it was my fault that she died when she did.
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Dec 8, 2014 16:25
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Don't blame yourself, Rand. Sasha was an old, old kitty and you gave her a life full of love and special attention. It was just her time to go. You loved each other and gave each other decades (multiple!) of happiness. Try to hold onto that. 
LITERALLY A BIRD fucked around with this message at 04:21 on Dec 9, 2014 |
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Dec 9, 2014 04:13
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Rand McNally posted:One week anniversary. I'm still really shook up over it, and wondering if it ever gets better. I found a photo from the 26th of November and just noticed her pupils are really dilated in it. I don't know how I missed it. I can't tell if it was because she was in pain or because of the potential warfarin getting in her system. I don't even know how possible that is/was but I'm going to assume it happened and that it was my fault that she died when she did. Stop. Just loving stop. She was 23 years old, that is incredible for an animal, given all she went through she was living on borrowd time for quite awhile. I know exactly how you feel, stopping your life to tend to an animal, thinking on what you could have done differently, why you went out that specific day, what if I had been there, could I have saved her. The answer is no, it was her time. And to be blunt, no, it does not get easier, the pain lessens a bit but its always there, in your case its only been a week, I still cry over the death of my cats and that was a year ago. But seriously, stop blaming yourself for your cat's death, its not healthy.
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Dec 9, 2014 04:20
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| # ? May 14, 2024 11:42 |
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Rand McNally posted:One week anniversary. I'm still really shook up over it, and wondering if it ever gets better. I found a photo from the 26th of November and just noticed her pupils are really dilated in it. I don't know how I missed it. I can't tell if it was because she was in pain or because of the potential warfarin getting in her system. I don't even know how possible that is/was but I'm going to assume it happened and that it was my fault that she died when she did. Dude you got your kitty high as gently caress AND gave her 23 years to hang out and gently caress poo poo up in pro cat style. You did fantastic and since she went naturally I really, really doubt there is a single thing you could have done to give her a second more.
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Dec 9, 2014 04:41
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