Angst alert – there will be much of it in today’s post. I just fired up another pot of coffee.
Sandy scheduled an appointment at the vet for Miss Jazz’s euthanasia at 10:30 this morning. It is now 8:00.
Yesterday and the night before I moaned and cried because I was so sure of the need to let her go today, and at the same time it is so hard to choose the time to let a companion of 16+ years go. I came home yesterday afternoon and she ate heartily, hopping around on one back leg, and her fur was back to its sleek beauty.
Sandy came home from work and I told him that she did seem to be feeling better. He burst into tears and told me that he had made the appointment and didn’t know what to do. I burst into tears and said that I didn’t know what to do either. He decided not to give her the pain med injection tonight and reassess the situation. She didn’t seem to miss it. She crawled up into the bed with us like any normal morning and licked my face before settling down on my chest. Sandy said that she was playing with him on Thursday night.
Earlier Thursday night she jumped up on a high stool, to my surprise. Before I could get to her, she jumped down. I wonder if that is what caused her so much pain that night.
So we are torn up about this decision. She is not behaving like a cat who is ready to die. But I know that I hung on to Squirt for much too long before I let him go. I was so depressed anyway with the things going on in my life that losing him was unthinkable to me. I’d long considered it to be the worst possible prospect on the horizon, and I didn’t think that I could survive it. I felt bad that I caused him greater suffering because of my needs, but I have forgiven myself. That doesn’t mean that I want to repeat it with Jazz.
She is not laying around all the time. She goes to the litterbox on her own, which is actually an improvement. She trots around for what seems to be no good reason. She is eating and drinking. But we know that she is in terrible pain. She has a fractured tooth, her neck is all knotted up in spasms, and she twists one of her back feet under her body to make up for not putting weight on the other.
She is in the middle stages of chronic renal failure anyway. She probably has hyperthyroidism (the test was negative, but the vet thinks that the test was wrong) but treating it will make the CRF worse. That is what happened to Squirt. Her heart murmur has gotten better with the heart medicine we’ve given her.
So our choice is to spend a huge amount of money on treatment that she will likely not survive anyway, and if she does, her kidneys are failing and she will not recover from that. And she is very old.
Or we can pump her full of pain meds and fluids and pamper and love her until she stops eating on her own and make this decision later.
Or we can take her to the vet this morning at 10:30 and say goodbye to her.
Ay yi yi.