Last night at 11:30pm I held Seether on my lap, she was curled up, her head resting lightly on my right hand while my left hand slowly petted her. I knew she was not afraid, her tail twitching each time I spoke to her in the manner it always did when she was content. Only the halting jerking motion of it belied just how sick she was. I knew it was time.

Just 30 minutes earlier I watched her on my futon next to me. She looked so tired. Her eyes only half open, her head drooping without the strength to lift it. Every few minutes her shallow breathing would change and she’d take a long deep breath and exhale it haltingly. I knew she wasn’t going to make the morning.

I kissed her forehead and told the Dr I was ready. She pushed the syringe and her head slowly slid off my hand. It was over in 6 seconds. She was gone.

It wasn’t fair. She was only 6 years old. She deserved more, but her little body was spent. No more treatments, no more forced feedings, no more needles.

Last weekend I had noticed she wasn’t herself. She had a chronic upper respiratory condition since she was a kitten so she was always sneezing and sniffles were common occurrences. This time however it was clear she had a full blown cold. She had taken to hiding under my computer desk throughout the day and was not there in the hallway to greet me when I’d come home…something she had never failed to do for the last 6 years. So last Monday, I took the morning off from work and took her to the vet.

He told me she was dehydrated which was strange since she had been drinking quite a bit of water lately…though she had not been eating. The vet took some blood work and would have the results the next day. He thought it was possible her cold might be preventing her from smelling her food and she had always been somewhat of a finicky eater. He gave me some anti-biotics for her cold and they gave her some saline under her skin to attempt to hydrate her and we went home.

The next day he called and said there some serious problems with her labs. Her Blood Urea Nitrogen (BUN) level was at 230. Normal is around 20. Her Creatinine was at 16, normal is 2. He said her kidneys were in failure and given the levels he was amazed she was alive and that I needed to bring her in immediately and that I should start thinking about euthanasia.

The only question he had was whether this was due to her ingesting a toxin or if it was a chronic condition. If it was chronic, given her values he said her prognosis was poor. Chronic renal disease in cats is terminal. If it was due to a toxin it was possible some if not all of her kidney function would return if should could make it through the next few days. After another examination and after I stated she had been urinating frequently, the vet told me those were signs of chronic failure…as acute failure usually presents with reduced urination while chronic presents with increased.

CRF (Chronic Renal Failure) is common in older cats. A normal cat’s kidney’s have 70-90% more functionality than the cat needs to remain healthy. Kidney function in cats can degrade for many reasons – age, sickness, genetics, but until they lose 70% or more of the functionality their health is normal. Once that threshold is crossed though, they tend to go downhill very quickly. The vet in his examination said when he felt her kidneys, they were very small…and the most likely explanation is she was just born with smaller than normal kidneys.

I asked if she was in pain. The dr. said that based on what people with kidney failure feel it is believed that cats are not in pain..at least not until their last few moments. They most likely just feel very poorly…akin to a person with a bad hangover. Given this information and the fact she was still somewhat active once roused I opted for treatment.

He cautioned the odds were long and that the disease was terminal…that treatment was to maintain life quality and not a cure, but some cats could go on to live active quality lives for several years. His prognosis for Seether was not so optimistic, with luck she might get a few months of quality time. They would give her intravenous fluids to hydrate her and tube feed her and do what they could to teat the nasal infection.

On Thursday the report was encouraging, she had started to eat on her own a bit and when i went to visit her she was alert, happy, active and though I could tell not 100% there was very much of her old self there in the clinic.

The plan was to keep her until saturday and I could take her home at noon when they closed for the weekend. We would see how she was doing Monday and go from there.

On Saturday I picked her up and could see she was not as active as she was on Thursday. I had hoped that maybe she was just tired from being in the clinic. They took her blood again and the result were not what they had hoped. Her BUN had only dropped to 170 and her creatinine was only down to 11. It was hoped they would have dropped at least twice that.

I would need to give her sub-q’s each day (inject 75ml of saline under her skin to keep her hydrated, giver her some antibiotics twice a day, an anti-acid three times a day, some vitamin B supplements twice a day, and a phosphate binder once per day.

I took her home. She would not eat so I tried to syringe feed her liquid food. She did not like this one bit. By Sunday her nasal condition has cleared up considerably, but she was still not eating. By Monday she was noticeably weaker.

Monday evening I was feeding her via syringe and she was not making as much of a fuss. I thought at first this was a good sign. By 10:30 though I realized it was because she was too weak. Through it all she remained the sweet cat I had known since getting her as a kitten form the Humane Society. She spent all day by my side or on my lap, but by 10:30pm I knew it was over. Her eyes told me all I needed to know, and I knew in my heart she would not make it to the morning. I am forever grateful for the few extra days I had with her and knew my last duty was to make sure she did not suffer in her final hours. I know she did not. She was not afraid, she was not alone, and her last memory was of my hand gently petting her and me softly calling her name.

I wish that would be enough for me, that it would somehow ease the sense of loss and grief but it does not. At least not yet. I know in time it will, but for now I am lost. My little girl is gone.

UPDATE: Some pics of Seether as a kitten. I’ll try and get some pics of her as an adult up soon.

Seether1
Seether2
Seether3