Nina Paley on Nostr: My orange fluffy cat, Momo, seems to be dying, although who knows, he can't tell me. ...

My orange fluffy cat, Momo, seems to be dying, although who knows, he can't tell me. Declining for months, losing fluff, eating less and less, becoming bony, having diarrhea for weeks now. Dragged him to the vet despite promising him I wouldn't (he gets massively stressed, unlike other cat Lola). X-ray was inconclusive, next step to diagnose would require exploratory surgery. I had to decide, I decided against, because surgery likely wouldn't cure whatever they found and he's already weak and sick. They gave me anti-nausea pills and appetite stimulant ear cream and a bag of fluid and a bunch of needles they attempted to train me to use for sub-cutaneous hydration: I had to poke my poor kitty with a big needle, I wanted to collapse or run away but I did it. They gave me Prednisone (steroid) tablets to crush up and mix with his food. I did so, and with the appetite stimulant he ate; then he shat it all out in a massive episode of diarrhea, and I decided no more appetite stimulant, that's just cruel. He eats a little, only a very little, and growls at Lola whom he used to love, and sleeps up against the heat vent which he never used to do. But sometimes he still scratches his scratching post, and grooms himself, and even licks Lola, and snuggles me. Sometimes there's a spark in his eye again. Sometimes there isn't.

While writing about Momo this morning, Lola barfed on the rug next to me. Could have been worse; she could have barfed on the socks that lay just inches away. Could always be worse. I love cats but lately having cats seems like a terrible idea. I know times like this are part of the job but it feels like it will go on forever and my heart breaks every day and we're not even at the worst yet.