I just finished reading Rick McGinnis' latest entry regarding his cat's health. I empathize with him fully, having gone through a very similiar situation 4 years ago with our cat Katie. Unfortunately, from our experience, I am not the harbinger of good news for him regarding his cat's prognosis. I can offer a sympathetic ear, a sense of "Been there; know what you're going through; how can I help?" and Katie's story.
Katie was born Sept. 18, 1988. She came to us by way of PJs Pet Centre at the Yorkdale Shopping Centre. We weren't actively looking to buy a cat that fateful day, but once we saw her we had no choice in the matter. She gave us the look and we were hers, hook line and sinker. She especially endeared herself to me when she was sitting on my lap having a bath, while Lisa was at the cash paying for her. She stopped her bathing and looked up at me with her little face, as if you say "I love you, daddy." (Barfbags available in the lobby, by the way.) I think that's what the expression meant - that or "You're mine now, sucker! Bwuhahah!"
After a year, we added Sam to the mixture. We were a 2 cat family for the next 5 years, during which Lisa and I stopped living together for a time to work on ourselves. (A story for another time.) Katie had quite the personality; while she was very loving with the 3 of us, she could be an iron-clad bitch to anyone else if she deemed such an attitude appropriate.
When we would visit Lisa's familty in St. Catharines, the cats got the luxury of going outside in the backyard, under supervision of course. The neighbours had a dog, Alice, who hated cats and would always bark at the top of her lungs at ours. On more than one occasion, Katie would saunter up to the fence where the dog was, and bait Alice to come get her. Alice would come bounding up, barking and snarling, and stick her nose through the fence at Katie. Tragic error. Katie would then proceed to go into full Moulinex mode and puree the dog's nose with such lightning fast strokes that the poor animal didn't know what it had gotten itself into.
Every annual checkup, Katie would come away with a clean bill of health. She was a good size for a female cat - an Amazon of the the feline world.
The morning of January 6th, 1995, Lisa phones me. "We have a very sick kitty. Let's get her to the vets." The night before, Katie didn't eat any supper and lay in the bedroom.During the night, she went and hid under the bed. She refused to come out in the morning for breakfast or any of her usual morning routines. (One of her favourties was the lick your legs dry when you got out of the shower.) When I arrived, I pulled her out from under the bed and set her on it. She gave me a pitiful meow and just sat there. Her nose and foot pads were cold. Concerned, we drove to the vets, with Katie sitting in her carrier, meowing quietly every so often.
Dr. McClure (best vet anywhere) examined her upon our arrival. I could tell from the expression on his face the prognosis was not good. I think he knew exactly what was wrong with her the moment he examined her. "Leave her here for the day and we'll keep an eye on her condition. Call us tonight." With that, we left her with the vet and went to work.
Later that night, Lisa called from work to get a status update. When I picked her up from work, she filled me in on the details. Katie had a heart condition known as Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, which is a thickening of the heart's walls that gradually increases over time. It makes it more difficult for the heart to function normally. Eventually, the heart will shut down, too weak to fight the condition. In cats, it normally strikes kittens and is detectable only in the latter stages if one is looking for a heart condition. Dr. McClure told Lisa that he didn't think she'd survive the night, and would we consider euthanasia. He said there was a slim chance of recovery. We said to keep her comfortable overnight, but if push came to shove they could do the deed.
The next morning we called to find that her breathing had been infrequent overnight, and they had put her to sleep around 4 in the morning. Our Katie was gone so suddenly from our lives on January 7th, 1995. We were in a moribund state for the next few days. Sam kept wandering around the apartment, mroawing and looking for her.
Two weeks later we got Abby; not to replace Katie in our hearts but to open a new spot there and help with the healing process. After a couple of days of the usual new-cat-in-the-house routine, Sam came round and was his rambunctious self again.
I can see from Rick's description of his cat's condition so many parallels to our own story. I know how his story is going to end, from my own experience. All I can say is this: Treasure every day that you have with your cat. It could happen tomorrow or years from now; with that heart condition it is inevitable. At least you will have the chance now to say your good-byes, and make them long drawn-out ones if need be. We never had that opportunity, with Katie's passing being so sudden.
If you need any feline advice or have any questions, we've become fairly knowledgeable about cat health issues since that day. One excellent book recommendation is The Cornell Book Of Cats by the Cornell University Veterinary Medicine. It is by far the best medical reference book a cat owner can have on their bookshelves.
*Sigh* What a happy entry this one has been. I'll close it with the following poem I wrote back in December 1988 about today's subject.
A Katie Kitten Day
When I tread softly, I crouch low to the
ground
Prepared to strike - don't make a sound
Ahead is my prey, sitting, unsuspecting
Leap! Pounce! Claw! Grab! Yeow! Run Away!
Why does Mommy hit me?
That Christmas tree ball was just asking for it
It taunted me - look at the expression on its face
Hmph! I'll just groom myself - regain composure.
What is that? A mouse I see? Funny looking, that.
The way it's attached to Daddy's arm, with those
Oddly shaped legs and tail
I'd best investigate
A tentative sniff, a touch with my paw
Then bite! And hold on for dear life - it's a mutant!
It's my sworn duty in life to kill mutant mice!
Chew! Claw! Dig! Punch! Yipes!
The scruff of my neck seems to be held - look at
Me, I'm flying! Can't seem to move my limbs, though.
Alighting on the chair - better get out of here fast - Zoom!
I'm hungry. Feed me! Feed me! Not chicken stew again!
That new stuff! Feed me! Feed -- Oh yummy! Beef and liver.
Oink! Oink! I love making a pig of myself.
Oh. I am stuffed. Hmm, Mommy's lap. Good place to
Wash up after supper. Clean, lick, wash. Mommy's face
Smells dirty too. Better rake my tongue across her nose and
Cheeks. Why is she laughing so?
Yawn! I'm feeling sleepy. I like the back rub Mommy's giving me.
There's that funny mouse on Daddy's arm again. I'll just
Keep my eye on it, while I - oh, that feels good!
While I - yawn! - While I - zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. . .