Killing Autumn in Planting Trees

Warning: Pet Death, Pictures

Grieving is a celebration of life, and I fucking hate celebrations. It’s been an extremely hard two months. More than two months, but these are the two where things took a dramatic downward spiral. I’m pretty sure everyone in the household has a massive headache from crying, grieving, doing everything they can and still failing. So much lost sleep and lack of eating. Nausea from worry as things kept getting worse.

We have a pet that, frankly, I wouldn’t consider as elderly, just older. She started to lose weight slowly and her appetite grew in tandem, but she wasn’t gaining anything from eating. The vet wasn’t alarmed. She started having diarrhea problems maybe three months ago. Vet tried a few things but wasn’t alarmed, one of which being a basic blood test and a fecal test that came back clean. She kept losing weight and half of her coat took an oily, pieced texture. The vet gave her vitamins and medicine but “didn’t know what could cause her coat to be doing that” and sent her home. She lost enough weight that you could feel every disc in her spine and the coat became completely oily and pieced. Suddenly, the vet is alarmed and starts panicking saying “I don’t know! I don’t know! It must be cancer!” and referred her to a specialist for an endoscopy.

She was an absolute skeleton.

We took her to Little Rock for that. The specialist felt her over and ruled out the endoscopy as a last option, said cancer is an option but a very slim one, and named three things that were much more likely the case. He ran a more specific blood test, sent in for her to get fluids and another vitamin shot, and we were sent home to wait for the results. She was declining rapidly by that point. He had given us a medicine and a strict z/d diet to eliminate allergies or parasites as an option in the meantime. She had gone through so many medicines and special foods already, but we tried.

The tests came back three days later revealing her pancreas had stopped producing an enzyme, causing food to pass through her without absorbing. She got written up for two powders to be mixed into her food. One could be found commonly at farm supplies, but the other one the vet didn’t carry because so few pets needed it and it typically went bad. Mom had them call around and they directed us to a vet down the road that had the dog version in pill form, which could be halved, ground down, and added to food. She was so weak by this point she could hardly walk. We got her to nibble on food with the medicine. We were told “most cats bounce back once they get this powder and regain their weight pretty much rapidly” and that it could be ordered from Chewy to save a little money.

That’s great. Before the powder could even ship, she’s died. She died at 4am this morning in her favorite human’s lap, surrounded by us all. There were small signs of improvement, like her stool becoming more solid, but by last night, she was pissing and shitting on the blanket because she couldn’t leave to go to the box. Yesterday morning, mom had carried her to the box and it took every bit of energy she had to use it. I’d made supper for everyone so they could stay in the living room with her and ended up hand feeding my side of macaroni to her one noodle at a time because finally, after trying to get her to eat so many types and textures of cat foods and human foods, we found one she was snapping down as best as she could. I hope that she at least didn’t have hunger pains in her stomach when she passed.

At three something, I’d walked through to go to the restroom and they were bawling. She had stretched out and started to wail weakly and look at my dad. He was stroking her and telling her it was ok to stop fighting and rest and how strong she had been. She passed not long after. My partner said it almost felt like she’d fought long enough for me to wake up and be with her a last time, and he’s not wrong.

This whole thing has been heartbreaking, exhausting, and, although money can’t possibly hold a torch to any of this, expensive. They got back from dropping her off at the vet to be cremated. They kept her on the couch with them until the vet opened, wrapped in the blanket that she loved that they had bought specifically for her on a trip to Eureka Springs. I had made a book of photos of her for my dad either for his birthday or Christmas one year and he’s thanked me twice. He was thinking about it in her final hours and after getting back, has gotten it out to look at it. It’s got pictures of her beauty, her quirkiness, and pictures of them together. I’m glad I wasn’t in there. I’m sure he bawled and I would have started again, too. I’ve got a killer headache, but again, I think everyone here does.

I don’t know how I will feel later. Right now, I’m massively angry towards our vet. They are an animal hospital and this is the second iffy fucking circumstance that has happened. When our dog Odie passed, he had put on extra weight, had a tight stomach, and was panting short breaths constantly. He was in heart failure. They were literally about to send him home with us but we had them take him back for an xray anyway, and the tone changed immediately. “His tongue turned purple and we almost lost him when we put him on the table.” Oh but you were goddamn sending us home a fucking breath ago. Now it’s “oh older cats lose weight” until she’s a goddamn skeleton and it’s too fucking late to act on the test results. I’m rambling, so I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that they aren’ t just a vet, but an animal hospital.

She was my dad’s baby, but I feel worst for my mom. Things started getting bad in October. It’s her favorite month, season, and holiday, as well as the month with her birthday. They barely had decorations, when usually the outside and inside of the house is covered for Halloween. Dad sat outside and handed out candy for trick-or-treaters because she had gotten into mom’s lap and we knew she needed the rest.

The whole house has suffered, too. The bathroom is piled with worn clothes and used towels. Coffee was left in the coffee pot so long the grounds above it were molding. Kitchen appliances left disgusting, dishes everywhere, pop top cans with rotting leftovers. We’ve been completely sapped of energy, motivation, and care. When it was clear she had passed, my partner and I power cleaned the kitchen and cooked hoping they would get their appetites back. There were so many little plates and dishes with foods we had tried to feed her on the countertops. We put away all of them and the cans of her special diet food, did a round of dishes, cleared and wiped the counters, took the foreman grill apart and gave it a come to jesus cleaning. Steamed the floor. We didn’t want them to see things that reminded them of her last few weeks alive.

The other two of their cats seem alright so far. Rambo had been hovering around her at a small distance, maybe just over an arms-length, perching and watching her like an owl. Nunu has just wanted to steal the heater from her. That’s one of the things we bought for her. She always loved sitting in front of the heater, and our small units had broken, so we bought her one and she spent the last week loafed in front of it on her blanket. We’d also bought her a water fountain since she preferred running water and her others had broken. She only had the strength to use it maybe twice. We had a can of shrimps bought for her, too, that she passed before we could give her. She loved shrimps so much. I almost cried when we were cleaning the kitchen.

This happening on top of every other shit stain on life unfolding at the same time is why I haven’t been around here. Healing went well and I’m back at work. Just got my first paycheck since being back. I’ll updating about general life at some point when we start feeling better and get the house cleaned up more. I have to add some pictures of our baby when she was healthy to the end of this post, though.

This is Willow, fighter until the end, and she will be missed.

Last updated November 10, 2022