My mother, Margaret Adams, passed away in early August. Her passing was not a shock- dementia had largely taken her from us several years earlier. Even so, it has taken me a while to get my thoughts in a row and post this.Continue reading Mom
Yesterday was our last day with Nimbus. He wasn’t feeling or looking ‘right’ for some time, with obvious signs of abdominal abnormality as well as reduced activity.
Nimbus’ last day
My wife and I love our critters, in particular our feline family. It has been the norm during our 27 years together for us to have something like six or seven cats sharing our household. This isn’t ‘by design’, but it seems to work out that way.
For the first time in a while, however, we are down to five cats in our house. And it is a hard change to accept.
We knew it was a possibility, perhaps even probable. But that didn’t make losing Jasmine at the end of May any easier.
Irene and I both noticed something wrong as soon as we came back from our week-long cruise. Jasmine looked “puffy” around her chest, and seemed somewhat disinterested and dull. After a few days, she seemed to be having problems breathing. An X-Ray showed fluid and a possible mass in her chest cavity. Fluid was drawn, and ultrasound performed. The mass was quite large, 4 cm by 2 cm, and looked like a tumor. The fluid drawn from the chest, which eased Jasmine’s breathing for only a day or so, was also tested: it confirmed the worse.
We had our kitten Harley, barely five months old, euthanized last night. His last ten days of life were full of subcutaneous fluids, forced feedings, several antibiotics, and lots of love. In the end I was faced with a decision I never want to have to repeat. Harley’s immune system was damaged beyond repair by the feline leukaemia virus and, although we had managed to keep him alive for a few extra days, it wasn’t going to get better.
Our cat Willow died today. Two hours ago, I was in Chilliwack visiting family, and Irene called me to tell me to come straight back and meet her at the emergency clinic. She had found Willow thrashing on the floor. Irene tells me that Willow was gone by the time she was at the clinic, less than fifteen minutes after she called me. There was nothing to be done.
Our cat, Rommel, died on Wednesday. Irene raced him to the vet when she found him in a diabetic coma early in the afternoon. The vet was unable to revive him.
Rommel has been with us most of his life: over 13 years. We adopted him from the SPCA in Edmonton when he was about twelve weeks old.