My cat is sick, has been sick since this summer when we left her with trusted friends. What at first seemed like nothing very serious swiftly spiraled into a rash of ailments and the vet has spoken two or three times those very terrible words, “There is nothing, really, that we can do.” Which of course I hear and understand, and gulp and say I’ll take Lou home and have a think about it, but then at home she’ll ask for food or limp all the way to her litter box for once and I say, “Well, now! Look at that. Maybe we were wrong.”
But we were not wrong. As I reread what I have written, even as I wrote it, I realize that there is nothing, really, that we can do and to tell myself otherwise is self-delusion. My cat is very sick and it is getting more and more difficult to take care of her. Her kidneys aren’t functioning properly and so she drinks and drinks and drinks and the water goes straight through her. I can’t change out the newspapers under her fast enough.
The vet gave me two choices, take her home and let her die or bring her in and do that other thing. My mind is almost made up, I just need a little more time to brace myself for it.
Her condition has nothing to do with our friends who took the absolute best care of her possible. It is just one of those things that could have happened at any time, and probably the stress of us leaving her in a different house brought it all out.