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tiny_ninjaSaid goodbye to my Lady Loki last night unexpectedly.
She would have been five in March; I am not prepared for this at all.
Around bedtime last night, Loki started digging at my closet door. The lace overlay from one of my costumes was sticking out, so I scooped her up and shooed her out so I could go to bed, then tucked the costume away. Not two minutes later, Jon came in and told me Loki was acting weird and I needed to come see. She was struggling to breathe, and my first thought was that she was choking on something she'd found in the closet. Yet she let me open her mouth and look, and we couldn't see any obstructions. I knew something was majorly wrong then, because no way in hell Loki would ever let me pry into her mouth without biting me. We figured it was a blocked hairball and worried something was blocking her airway.
So we took her to the emergency vet, where x-rays revealed that her lungs were completely full of fluid. The causes of which were either heart disease or cancer; they were too full to be able to tell either way. They could drain the fluid, but without knowing the cause, it would only come back. Treatments would buy her time, but her quality of life would be greatly diminished.
The vet said we were making the right choice not to let her suffer, and that we were lucky we were home when she started to struggle. Otherwise she would have hid somewhere to pass away - probably why she was trying to get into my closet, now that I think of it. Jon and I brought the kids to the emergency vet at midnight to say goodbye, because no one would sleep anyway, and I didn't want to wait until morning and leave her in pain.
Got home at 2am. Had been up since going to work at 3:30am Friday. Quentin throws up when he gets really, really upset, so guess who threw up all over the backseat at 1am on the way home. And again at 4:30am in his blanket nest on my bedroom floor, where the kids finally collapsed.
I'm off today and all plans are cancelled, but I want my kitty back. I have to pack up all of her things and take the cat tower downstairs and I just - I can't. It hurts. She was so young, and life is so fucking shitty right now that it doesn't even spare my cat.
I am doing way too much finding out for not fucking around at all.
She would have been five in March; I am not prepared for this at all.
Around bedtime last night, Loki started digging at my closet door. The lace overlay from one of my costumes was sticking out, so I scooped her up and shooed her out so I could go to bed, then tucked the costume away. Not two minutes later, Jon came in and told me Loki was acting weird and I needed to come see. She was struggling to breathe, and my first thought was that she was choking on something she'd found in the closet. Yet she let me open her mouth and look, and we couldn't see any obstructions. I knew something was majorly wrong then, because no way in hell Loki would ever let me pry into her mouth without biting me. We figured it was a blocked hairball and worried something was blocking her airway.
So we took her to the emergency vet, where x-rays revealed that her lungs were completely full of fluid. The causes of which were either heart disease or cancer; they were too full to be able to tell either way. They could drain the fluid, but without knowing the cause, it would only come back. Treatments would buy her time, but her quality of life would be greatly diminished.
The vet said we were making the right choice not to let her suffer, and that we were lucky we were home when she started to struggle. Otherwise she would have hid somewhere to pass away - probably why she was trying to get into my closet, now that I think of it. Jon and I brought the kids to the emergency vet at midnight to say goodbye, because no one would sleep anyway, and I didn't want to wait until morning and leave her in pain.
Got home at 2am. Had been up since going to work at 3:30am Friday. Quentin throws up when he gets really, really upset, so guess who threw up all over the backseat at 1am on the way home. And again at 4:30am in his blanket nest on my bedroom floor, where the kids finally collapsed.
I'm off today and all plans are cancelled, but I want my kitty back. I have to pack up all of her things and take the cat tower downstairs and I just - I can't. It hurts. She was so young, and life is so fucking shitty right now that it doesn't even spare my cat.
I am doing way too much finding out for not fucking around at all.
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Date: 2023-01-22 11:29 pm (UTC)