I took this picture at 12 noon Thursday, the 27th.
Emily is not going to eat. She hates her potassium supplement gel. She's not going to drink, either. So there. Right now she's hiding under and behind our bed, so from now on no medications or food will be given to her in there. The bedroom can be Emily's perfect safe place.
Roughly a year ago, Emily was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism. She's not a cat who will take pills, but we were keeping her weight up by giving her a few smaller meals throughout the day. She was at 4lbs and 6oz at that time, and we had managed to slowly get her weight over 5lbs and she was doing well, though always a picky eater. About a week and a half ago, her weight suddenly started to drop and she stopped eating much, began throwing up, then sopped eating altogether. We took her into the vet's for treatment on Tuesday, then again for a recheck today. She hadn't eaten, except for a few teaspoons of baby food that I had to put onto her tongue to get her to swallow. She's now so thin and angular, she looks like a very old, very ill cat. The change has been shocking and scary.
I don't know what will happen from now, if she'll wake up tomorrow, hungry and willing to eat. She would not eat anything this evening. Our veterinarian, Dr. McCoy, gave her a shot of vitamin B-12 and some cortisone, to stimulate her appetite and give her some energy. According to the vet, if this doesn't get her to eat, it is unlikely that anything will. She got another 100cc of fluids, and we'll be giving her 100cc here once or twice a day, even if she tries to kill us, and she will. It looks like she's in kidney failure, and at 10 years old, that's a little early in her life for that, but each cat is different and sometimes has unfortunate surprises for us. I'm giving her reiki, of course, but from a distance right now. Hands-on reiki seems too much for her. I've known Emily since she was a month old, a little wild kitten in McLaren Park in San Francisco. I don't want to lose my friend, and I don't want to watch her die, but it never matters what we want in these cases -- it is all up to the cat.
I'm all tired out by now, and worried. Tomorrow I'll treat myself to a day of working on my BJP page. It will be soothing to work with beads and colors.
1 comment:
I wish I had something comforting to offer, but . . . it's never easy to watch a beloved pet die, is it? I lost Brownie to kidney failure when she was only two, and Theo to a stroke when she was ten. The only comfort was that neither was hurting anymore.
I hope Emily woke up today hungry, and that she will be with you for years yet . . . but if not, that you'll at least take comfort in knowing that you're her friend and she loves you.
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