Starving Cat Chronicles #4

Yesterday we got some bad news that wasn't unexpected but was still hard to hear. Our vet told us that our cat Pavlov's kidneys were failing. Short of giving him a transplant, he won't get better. We can give him peritoneal dialysis treatments (meaning the vet injects water into his belly), but these will only prolong the inevitable.

This afternoon, we'll get some test results back that will indicate how much kidney function he still has and, consequently, how much longer he'll live. At the moment, things don't look too bad. He still walks around, is energetic enough to jump on the kitchen table when we're not looking, wants to eat. When he is too weak to get up, he's at the end of the line.

Like I said, I'm not surprised. Though I didn't suspect his kidneys were failing, he does have some pretty serious digestive problems--he's had them to some degree since the day after we brought him home. Over the last four years, he's dropped from 11 to 6 pounds, and is more or less a walking skeleton, despite our trying numerous treatments and diet regimens. He's a bit wobbly on his feet now, though, as I said, he still puts on an occasional acrobatic display. While he's declined visibly for the last few years, he's worsened rapidly since the beginning of this summer--much weaker, more lethargic, less able to digest food, his affectionate disposition turned sour. He also seems confused at times. Last night, to keep him out of the kitchen while Kristine mopped the floor, we brought his FULL food dish into the living room, and though he had been crying for food, he just sniffed at it and tried to run back in the kitchen. Once we did return the food to its usual spot, he sucked it down immediately.

Lately we've discovered that he tolerates Gerber strained chicken pretty well. I guess his old age really is a second childhood.

I want to keep him around as long as possible, though I'm concerned about his quality of life too, and right now that seems questionable. He spends most of his day either sitting in front of his food bowl begging (i.e., meowing sharply and glaring at us) or sleeping behind shoes stacked around our back door. He doesn't like to be handled--this from a cat that couldn't seem to stay off us if we were sitting down--and he doesn't purr much anymore. I would like to pamper him (more) during the time he has left, but I'm not sure whether he's capable of appreciating it.

Like I said, we'll know more today about where he stands. I think I will need at least a few weeks to say goodbye. At 17, he's had a pretty good run. And when it's over, I pray that he'll go in his sleep.