Month: April 2015

Some background: Elvis came home to us not long after I lost my childhood cat, Twix.  Twix was 16 years old and had been living with chronic renal failure for a year.  I had/have a lot of unresolved guilt over his passing because it was violent and sudden.  Twix was such a sweetheart, always was.  I didn’t have the time or courage to give him the passing he deserved.  That was in June of 2007.

We adopted Bella from my best friend’s mom who could no longer keep her in July, and I believe I took Vesuvius in for a routine visit in August when my vet said, “I have someone to show you.”  She took me in the back room where they had a horde of kittens at the time, dug through a box like she was trying to find a toy, and produced this amazing orange kitten and shoved him in my arms.  “This is Elvis.  Don’t you love him?”  We looked each other in the eyes, and he started purring, and it was over.  I didn’t want a cat right then, I’m pretty sure I said “but, but, but” as she lead me back.  My heart had other plans.

Much like Twix, Elvis was a lover.  Much like Twix, he had a host of medical issues starting fairly young.  He was always anxious, had issues with anxiety and overgrooming starting as at around two years old.  Two years ago he had to have a PU surgery.  Last year he was diagnosed with the thankfully benign vestibular syndrome… interestingly enough, another condition far more common in canines.  I’m not thinking rationally now, but there’s a pessimist in me saying his body was breaking down slowly, and if there’s anything greater than us in this world, it wanted him back.

The bright side of all this is over the past several months, I have come to realize something important.  He was his own cat, no doubt about it, but he was also life’s way of giving me eight more years with my childhood best friend.  And I was Elvis’ second chance, because he’d already been given back once before.  We made promises to each other.  I couldn’t keep the promise that cancer wouldn’t take him.  That was out of my hands.  But we never gave up on each other, and I was able to give him the end days that I couldn’t manage for Twix.

Starting with the halcyon days of kittenhood…

 

This is why we call him “Elf”… as you can see, he has big, pointy ears.

 

 

 

There was a little consternation (lol) on first meeting, but they’ve been best friends since then.

 

I think Bella is going to miss him as much as I do.

 

With his boy.

 

I don’t like to put pictures of myself on the internet, but this is one that had all of them so close together.

 

Some things never change.

 

His final picture, taken a few weeks ago.  He wanted to be made into the bed.  He always loved being under the blankets with us.

I’m so sorry that I’ve not been able to write before all this. I kept meaning to sit down and write more, but you know how time escapes. This isn’t the update I wanted to give. I wanted this blog to be much longer.  I was hoping for years and got only a few months.

We had to let go of Elvis today, at about 6:15 PM. After struggling with recovery for a good six weeks post-op, he was doing so well. We got him to the point where he was playing with laser pointers, jumping on the cat condo, snuggling with his sister and loving his boy again. I’d been noticing some periodic heavy breathing, but it would resolve and his activity level would go back to normal. Early this week, for old time’s sake, he even ran at my legs and took them out from under me–he gets a little overly excited by dry food. Elvis was probably more a dog than a cat in many ways.

We had opted not to do chemo. Actually it wasn’t even really presented as a viable option in January, and I guess in retrospect they may have given us a few more months if we had gone that route. I can only assume he had micro mets in his chest that those early scans missed. The ultrasounds this afternoon showed significant pleurisy around his lungs, and given the fact that his vitals besides that were relatively normal, the doctor suggested cancer as a culprit. She said we could try tapping it, but even if it was heart failure, tapping would be a repeat process and probably not increase his life by much.

We’ve been buying his life with quarters in a jukebox, one song at a time, for the past six months. He’s been worth every single cent. At a point it wasn’t about money, but about quality. We couldn’t accept the idea of tapping him over and over, with more medication, more unpredictable wheezing and misery.

We chose to end it on a good note. Besides not eating much and a stressful afternoon, we had an upbeat day. He even tried to play with me earlier today. The blanket gopher (my hand under the sheets) was out to get his belly and he responded in full form, just as long as he didn’t have to actually get up and move. My husband and I were planning a much belated anniversary getaway, but we noticed Elvis wasn’t walking well and wasn’t responding to food or treats. He had a stress bowel movement after being startled and we noticed wheezing as he pushed, and that’s when we decided to take him in, prepared for the worst.

I’ve never been present at a euthanasia. I’m a little bewildered in how it was so difficult and so easy all at once. The process was very kind. They gave us plenty of time with him before and after. We held him for a long while.

I’m going to miss him so much. There will be more songs. I hope he’s somewhere close, listening.

Elvis, thank you for being a part of our lives.