Another sick kitty, and an announcement.
Before I get to the subject of today's post, my dear Sweet Spot pictured here (alongside my first Ballband Dishcloth, one of the several dishcloths I've knit for Linz in the last while... love this pattern and project), I want to make an announcement. 42 Main Street has been my humble and very sporadic little vanity page for over four years now. Up until now, I have intentionally used this website to share almost nothing ever but good news. I haven't wanted my blog to be a downer. I don't want my peeps out there reading to worry about me; I just want them to share in my little joys in life, unexciting as those joys might sometimes be. But the fact of the matter is, my life isn't just about knitting, and recipes, and flowers, and secret pals. Like everyone else out there, I have problems -- some of them more serious than others. I struggle with my work, with my relationships, with my moods. I've decided it's time my blog started talking about all the aspects of my life, and not just the happy stuff. As the old saw goes, pain shared is pain divided; joy shared is joy multiplied. If I lose some readers (and I have no idea whether I have any, or who they are, aside from some of my friends, family, and fellow Knittyheads; maybe I should be embarrassed by this, but I have no clue how to use a site meter or track my readership or see who links to me or find out what Google searches lead here or anything like that, and honestly, I don't even want to learn or go down that road)... well, so be it. Welcome to 42 Main Street, version 2.0, "keepin' it real."
All right, moving on to today's not-so-happy news. Spot here has been sick for nearly a year now, and so far, no vet has been able to tell us what's wrong with her. Derek and I took her to a third vet this morning, who's going to give her an ultrasound and possibly a biopsy on Thursday. I love this cat. If she were a child, I wouldn't be allowed to think this, or feel this, or say this, but she's a cat, and the fact is, the Spottifier is my favourite one. Spotnik is the sweetest, gentlest, cuddliest cat you can imagine. We've had the Spottificator since she was a three-week-old kitten that Derek rescued from the farm after she and her siblings were abandoned by their mother at the first snow in November 4 years ago -- we nursed her with a dropper until she could eat solid food. She is our little love muffin, pure affection in a fur coat. She started puking up furballs last year. Over the course of months, the furballs stopped, but the vomiting has become more and more frequent, and more and more severe. Our first vet had us try stomach medicine and cortisone, to no effect. We tried all kinds of different foods, thinking maybe she had an allergy or an intolerance to something she was eating. Still no better. She's had blood tests and x-rays, and everything has come back negative. At one point she had a nasty blockage and had to have it cleared out with a barium enema, but that problem has not recurred. In the last 5 months, she's lost far, far too much weight... this picture is from February, but she's much thinner now, skin and bones. She's managing to keep down some food, but not nearly enough. And yet for now she is still her lovely and spirited self -- a bit lethargic, but not in any obvious pain, not hiding away like a dying animal. As tired as I am of cleaning up cat vomit, I still don't want her to die. However, the prognosis doesn't look good. The new vet doesn't want us to get too hopeful about finding a treatable condition or disease with the next round of tests, although it is still possible. If that's not the case, though, it'll break my heart, but Derek and I have already decided we need to ask the vet to help her leave us, because slow starvation is not a good death. So again, my friends, family, strangers out there who might be reading, I ask for whatever prayers, healing thoughts, or good vibes you might be able to send out to the universe or whatever deity you believe in, this time to find a cure for my most dearest kitty, my beloved little Spotticus. Thank you all.
All right, moving on to today's not-so-happy news. Spot here has been sick for nearly a year now, and so far, no vet has been able to tell us what's wrong with her. Derek and I took her to a third vet this morning, who's going to give her an ultrasound and possibly a biopsy on Thursday. I love this cat. If she were a child, I wouldn't be allowed to think this, or feel this, or say this, but she's a cat, and the fact is, the Spottifier is my favourite one. Spotnik is the sweetest, gentlest, cuddliest cat you can imagine. We've had the Spottificator since she was a three-week-old kitten that Derek rescued from the farm after she and her siblings were abandoned by their mother at the first snow in November 4 years ago -- we nursed her with a dropper until she could eat solid food. She is our little love muffin, pure affection in a fur coat. She started puking up furballs last year. Over the course of months, the furballs stopped, but the vomiting has become more and more frequent, and more and more severe. Our first vet had us try stomach medicine and cortisone, to no effect. We tried all kinds of different foods, thinking maybe she had an allergy or an intolerance to something she was eating. Still no better. She's had blood tests and x-rays, and everything has come back negative. At one point she had a nasty blockage and had to have it cleared out with a barium enema, but that problem has not recurred. In the last 5 months, she's lost far, far too much weight... this picture is from February, but she's much thinner now, skin and bones. She's managing to keep down some food, but not nearly enough. And yet for now she is still her lovely and spirited self -- a bit lethargic, but not in any obvious pain, not hiding away like a dying animal. As tired as I am of cleaning up cat vomit, I still don't want her to die. However, the prognosis doesn't look good. The new vet doesn't want us to get too hopeful about finding a treatable condition or disease with the next round of tests, although it is still possible. If that's not the case, though, it'll break my heart, but Derek and I have already decided we need to ask the vet to help her leave us, because slow starvation is not a good death. So again, my friends, family, strangers out there who might be reading, I ask for whatever prayers, healing thoughts, or good vibes you might be able to send out to the universe or whatever deity you believe in, this time to find a cure for my most dearest kitty, my beloved little Spotticus. Thank you all.
6 Comments:
Hey Lisa,
So sorry to hear about Spot -- it's hard to see a good cat go,... even the longest-lived cats leave too soon.
Here's hoping you make some more happy memories, with however much time is left.
Oh, I see. It all becomes clear. I Wish a miracle cure for Sweet Spot , and Iwish happier days for you.
Spot and I have only just met! I'm happy for her that she is so showered with love, attention, and concern (that last one only when applicable).
And, love this post. It is not a sad post, it is a transformative, brave post. Go you.
Ahhh ....
It's perfectly ok, darling, to share the bad with the great. The world arranges it so that we may take turns helping, and being helped. Today, the hugs go to you.
XX's
{{{hugs}}} to you, my dear. I don't think you need to apologise for sharing this part of your life with us. If nothing else, we can sympathise with what you're going through.
I've got the vibes revved up and headed Spot's way.
I found your blog through ravelry and just wanted to say how sorry I am to hear about your little kitty.
I had to put my 14 year old cat to sleep because she was sick, skin and bones and as hard as it was to do this, it was way better for my kitty. Harder for me, but in the end, being a good pet owner means we have to make these very hard decisions.
Good luck and my thoughts are with you.
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