I just mentioned it in passing in March. But he wasn’t able to keep food down. It turned out, when we got back from the funeral in Michigan, that he had a growth in his small intestine, which we had surgically removed (at non-trivial expense). He was fine for a while, but apparently he was metastasizing, something that is hard to diagnose in a cat, but in August, he started losing weight.
He’s down to about 12 pounds from his peak weight before he got sick, of 17. We’re giving him appetite stimulant, anti-nausea drugs, and prednisone, but he’s still not eating much, and still vomiting occasionally. We took him back to the oncologist last week, but the prognosis isn’t good. His and Ashe’s 8th birthday is in November, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to see it. Not that cats know what birthdays are, of course.
I don’t think he’s afraid to die because, like birthdays, cats probably don’t give much thought to such things. They fear predators, but death is probably an unknown concept to them in any philosophical sense. But I’m afraid all we can do for now is to love him, and try to discern when he’s suffering enough that it’s time to say goodbye.
Here is their picture when we first brought them home after adopting them. At the time, we thought that Ember (on the right) was a girl, but he later turned out to be a boy, and a very sweet one.
Here he was, at about one year of age:
By the way, here is the Christmas post from which the kitten picture was taken. I should note that we have more pictures of those cats than any others we’ve had. I have none of Stella, who died in (IIRC) 2005.
[Monday-morning update]
I had it wrong; she passed in 2004.
[October 5 update]
He’s lost a couple more pounds, and is getting lethargic. He’s also wandering down to the street, and going into the neighbors’ yard, things he never used to do. We’re thinking that perhaps it’s close to time to let him go.
[Bumped]
So sad. Eight years isn’t nearly enough.
Rand — My most sincere empathy, and condolences for the inevitable. I really do believe this death thing needs to be addressed and cured, and not just for us but for our beloved critters (what Terry always called them) as well.
This sounds like what happened to our little red Burmese, Heisenberg, when he was twelve years old only in his case the tumour was distributed and inoperable.
Condolences and love him to bits while you have him. Don’t let him suffer though.
We obviously don’t want him to, but cats are so stoic, you never know what they’re going through. He’s still trying to do his daily routine, and loves to be with us.
Sorry to hear, Rand. We love cats, and have had many – but the silver tabbies are always the sweetest. I have never tried to do any real research, but they also seem to be the most prone to ailments. Again, condolences.
I’m sorry Rand, eight years is far too short for such an excellent kitty.
Sweet guy, good home. All good.
I wish I could offer anything other than sympathy.
You and your wife have my most sincere sympathies. We have lost 2 of our canine furbabies this year, 9 and 12 years old, so we understand the hurt that such a loss brings.
Sorry to hear about Ember, he has good parents.
Reading that 2018 post makes me wonder what happened to some of the now-missing posters.
Also, sadly, Pooky is now passed, leaving me two months and a week ago.
I was blessed with her for eighteen years and ten months. She is the record holder to date, besting her predecessor Jinx by ten months.
We just put down a cream-colored male cat named Yoshi. He made it to 18, but he was deaf, senile, and arthritic. Past a point it feels like selfishness on your part to try and keep them going beyond the point where they’re enjoying life.
It’s a little different for pets – you can’t know for sure when it’s time.
You don’t want to wait too long and have them suffer, but you also don’t want to lose their companionship nor deprive them of their time in this world. However, the latter two points are our own feelings, nothing the animal would ever consider. Better to let them go while you have a choice.
I made the choice myself back in May with my dog Talita. She was 15, slept 18 hours a day, almost blind, mostly deaf, so weak in her hindquarters that she was falling down all the time, and losing bowel control, but what a happy dog she was! Tail wagging and playful until the end.