I have had quite a few pets in the past--and when you make the commitment to be their caregiver, to accept and return the love they have to offer, you also agree to care for them until that time that you can no longer help them. I have been there many times and it never gets easier.
I adopted Rascal around 16 years ago when he was named Romeo, an offspring of a feral mama in Beaufort. He arrived riding on my friend Mary's lap. But he never wanted to ride on mine. It took years before he trust me enough to come for chin scratches and belly rubs. A few times I thought I need to find him another home. But I never did.
Aside from one urinary issue about a dozen years ago, he's been a pretty healthy cat. Never one to play with the others--oh but a laser on the ground drove him wild.
As Rascal grew older I knew that at some point we'd see some issues present themselves as is expected. Recently he was diagnosed with stage 1 renal failure--a disease which probably gets most cats in their later years, but for such a senior cat, stage 1 was a surprise only because I thought he'd have be having more kidney issues by now.
But slowly I saw his appetite get more erratic--not a good sign--so it's off to the vet to see if there was a reason. The recommendation was an ultrasound to see if there were any issues in his GI tract. And there were. He had developed pancreatitis and his tummy was somewhat inflamed. So we treated that as best we could. When I got back from that vet appointment, I saw something that shocked me. He was walking around the house frequently stopping to pee wherever he was standing--but nothing was coming out. Bad news. Usually that means there is something blocking the urine from leaving the bladder. That led to a few days' care with the vet and a catheter--but after flushing the bladder until it was clean, the catheter was removed he came home.
Not an inexpensive procedure. But about an hour after coming home he was doing it again. A heart to heart with Dr. O'Quinn involved options--which were way more intrusive, but considering the other issues he was experiencing which could just get worse, I could not in good conscience put him through all that which would include a feeding tube, surgery, and a lengthy recovery. He was a sweet boy and it was time to get him out of his discomfort--a decision I wrestled with for days.
Today I said goodbye and sent him to meet his former family members at the Rainbow Bridge who would welcome him and play now that he experienced no pain. It's not an easy thing to do. It's just what we pet owners sign up for when we adopt and pledge to be the caregiver for the voiceless. Run free Rascal--you deserve it.