![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darren_strangerSamson died yesterday.
He'd been sick for the last week, having started to look unsteady on his feet last Tuesday. It looked a lot like a kidney problem, which was a potential side effect of the cortisone he was on for the growth on his eye, and we were worried we were going to lose him then. It seemed likely that his next visit to a vet would be a one way trip, and we had to decide when we should take him. But he didn't seem to get any worse and even picked up a bit, so we decided to wait and watch, and to treat every extra day he was with us as a bonus.
Over the next week he was never 100% but he did seem to have a decent quality of life (though it's hard to know for sure when they can't tell you what they're feeling) and by a couple of days ago he was actually looking the brightest he had since he first started looking off colour. That was probably the first day i didn't have that knot of worry sitting somewhere at the back of my consciousness while i went about other things. But that night things took a turn for the worse. He was lying on the garden path when i came home and didn't get up and follow me like he usually did. I let him rest and went about normal things, but when he didn't come for dinner i looked out at him and just felt there was something 'wrong' about the way he was lying. I picked him up and carried him to the food bowls, but he turned away and staggered unsteadily into the kitchen. He seemed dizzy and disoriented and just stood there with his head hanging down, Elaine came in some minutes later and found me just staring at him. We knew this was it. He was barely able to stand or walk, and when we sat him down he just lay on his limbs in whatever position they happened to be folded under him and made no move to put them in a more comfortable position. He was very unresponsive and wouldn't even drink water. He looked just like Ben on his last day, only without the twitching.
We put him on his blanket under the bed so he could be near us and maybe feel a little more secure, if he was aware at all, and decided he had to go see the vet the next day. The only question was whether it would be morning or afternoon. Because he wasn't drinking water, i thought as early as possible would be best as i didn't want him to dehydrate and die of thirst. By the morning, though, he'd perked up, was drinking water and even walked out to sit in the garden. So we decided to wait until the afternoon, and i had to go into work to take care of some things. Elaine came and got me from work at lunch time and we stopped in at the local vet to make an appointment for them to look at him. The earliest was 4:20, which gave us a couple of hours to sit with him. Elaine said he'd perked up a lot and had been walking around, and when i got home he was back under the bed but alert and looking me in the eye. I began to have misgivings, wondering if we were doing the wrong thing or too soon, but i realised that whatever reprieve he had it was only temporary, and if we put it off too long he would suffer for it. I didn't want to rob him of whatever good days he might have left, but if the price was a really, really awful day for him, then it was too high. (All of this was presupposing what the vet was going to recommend, but there was little doubt what the outcome would be). In a way, it would have been easier for us if he han't perked up at all and had stayed like he'd been the night before, but the more i thought about it the more i realised that if this was to be his last day then it was far better that it be as good a day as it could than a bad one. Talking to Ange earlier in the day, hearing how awful it had been for Ladonna to go 'naturally', really made that part of the equation clear (and for once i didn't object to her nagging about it). I sat and patted him as much as i could, scratched his chin wherever he wanted it, let him nuzzle me and lie on my face, until he got tired and turned away.
When the time came to put him in the cage and drive to the vet, he howled and complained in the car like he always did, which made it hard, but once he was there and out of the box he relaxed and looked around as usual. The vet listened and nodded and let us tell him all about what was going on, but i could see in his eyes that he only had to take one look at Sam to know what was up. He gave him a proper looking over, and as well as the eye growth and obvious signs of liver and kidney problems, he also found lumps in Sam's stomach that may have been cancer. All up, he wasn't a well kitty. It was as if he'd had the 19 good years that's the most any cat is allowed to have, and his body was ready to succumb to any one of a host of things lined up to end it. The vet gave us a few moments alone with him then we took him to another room, where they shaved his arm, gave him a general anaesthetic and then the euthanasia injection. We patted and scratched him throughout and he even seemed to be purring as he slipped away, which was the best way so bad a thing could possibly happen. The vets left us alone with him again for a few minutes while we howled out eyes out, then they took him away and put him in a calico burial bag, which they tied nicely with a ribbon and his collar on the outside.
It was hard and heartbreaking, but it was the best way such a thing could end. Far better for his last experience to be us patting and pampering him and he being aware of us there with him, than for him to be sick and disoriented and alone in his distress. It had to happen, there was no getting around it, and the way it went was as nice as it could be.
We took him home and Elaine held him in his bag while i dug his grave, under the bushes where he liked to sleep. With the hard ground and our spade, it took me two hours to dig barely two feet down, but i kept going as long as i could. David from next door came home and saw what we were doing, then brought his crowbar and longer handled spade over and dug the hole twice as deep for us in about five minutes. Then he left us to it and we buried him. Elaine found it really hard to let go of him, knowing that was the last time she'd ever hold him, but we laid him in the ground, laying him the way he liked to face (the vets had put him curled nicely in the bag, so we just had to lay him the right way), then put two nice roses in with him before we covered the grave. Then we laid the marble grave marker on top and Elaine arranged some more nice flowers across it.
Over the next week he was never 100% but he did seem to have a decent quality of life (though it's hard to know for sure when they can't tell you what they're feeling) and by a couple of days ago he was actually looking the brightest he had since he first started looking off colour. That was probably the first day i didn't have that knot of worry sitting somewhere at the back of my consciousness while i went about other things. But that night things took a turn for the worse. He was lying on the garden path when i came home and didn't get up and follow me like he usually did. I let him rest and went about normal things, but when he didn't come for dinner i looked out at him and just felt there was something 'wrong' about the way he was lying. I picked him up and carried him to the food bowls, but he turned away and staggered unsteadily into the kitchen. He seemed dizzy and disoriented and just stood there with his head hanging down, Elaine came in some minutes later and found me just staring at him. We knew this was it. He was barely able to stand or walk, and when we sat him down he just lay on his limbs in whatever position they happened to be folded under him and made no move to put them in a more comfortable position. He was very unresponsive and wouldn't even drink water. He looked just like Ben on his last day, only without the twitching.
We put him on his blanket under the bed so he could be near us and maybe feel a little more secure, if he was aware at all, and decided he had to go see the vet the next day. The only question was whether it would be morning or afternoon. Because he wasn't drinking water, i thought as early as possible would be best as i didn't want him to dehydrate and die of thirst. By the morning, though, he'd perked up, was drinking water and even walked out to sit in the garden. So we decided to wait until the afternoon, and i had to go into work to take care of some things. Elaine came and got me from work at lunch time and we stopped in at the local vet to make an appointment for them to look at him. The earliest was 4:20, which gave us a couple of hours to sit with him. Elaine said he'd perked up a lot and had been walking around, and when i got home he was back under the bed but alert and looking me in the eye. I began to have misgivings, wondering if we were doing the wrong thing or too soon, but i realised that whatever reprieve he had it was only temporary, and if we put it off too long he would suffer for it. I didn't want to rob him of whatever good days he might have left, but if the price was a really, really awful day for him, then it was too high. (All of this was presupposing what the vet was going to recommend, but there was little doubt what the outcome would be). In a way, it would have been easier for us if he han't perked up at all and had stayed like he'd been the night before, but the more i thought about it the more i realised that if this was to be his last day then it was far better that it be as good a day as it could than a bad one. Talking to Ange earlier in the day, hearing how awful it had been for Ladonna to go 'naturally', really made that part of the equation clear (and for once i didn't object to her nagging about it). I sat and patted him as much as i could, scratched his chin wherever he wanted it, let him nuzzle me and lie on my face, until he got tired and turned away.
When the time came to put him in the cage and drive to the vet, he howled and complained in the car like he always did, which made it hard, but once he was there and out of the box he relaxed and looked around as usual. The vet listened and nodded and let us tell him all about what was going on, but i could see in his eyes that he only had to take one look at Sam to know what was up. He gave him a proper looking over, and as well as the eye growth and obvious signs of liver and kidney problems, he also found lumps in Sam's stomach that may have been cancer. All up, he wasn't a well kitty. It was as if he'd had the 19 good years that's the most any cat is allowed to have, and his body was ready to succumb to any one of a host of things lined up to end it. The vet gave us a few moments alone with him then we took him to another room, where they shaved his arm, gave him a general anaesthetic and then the euthanasia injection. We patted and scratched him throughout and he even seemed to be purring as he slipped away, which was the best way so bad a thing could possibly happen. The vets left us alone with him again for a few minutes while we howled out eyes out, then they took him away and put him in a calico burial bag, which they tied nicely with a ribbon and his collar on the outside.
It was hard and heartbreaking, but it was the best way such a thing could end. Far better for his last experience to be us patting and pampering him and he being aware of us there with him, than for him to be sick and disoriented and alone in his distress. It had to happen, there was no getting around it, and the way it went was as nice as it could be.
We took him home and Elaine held him in his bag while i dug his grave, under the bushes where he liked to sleep. With the hard ground and our spade, it took me two hours to dig barely two feet down, but i kept going as long as i could. David from next door came home and saw what we were doing, then brought his crowbar and longer handled spade over and dug the hole twice as deep for us in about five minutes. Then he left us to it and we buried him. Elaine found it really hard to let go of him, knowing that was the last time she'd ever hold him, but we laid him in the ground, laying him the way he liked to face (the vets had put him curled nicely in the bag, so we just had to lay him the right way), then put two nice roses in with him before we covered the grave. Then we laid the marble grave marker on top and Elaine arranged some more nice flowers across it.
It was so hard, and such a sad day, but in the end it was the best ending the story could have, and i feel somehow relieved that it was as good as it could possibly be for him, rather than as awful as it could ahve been.
I just hope we don't have to do anything like that again in a hurry.
