Remembering Spunky

Our animal friends tell us goodbye when they are ready although we may not always understand it at the time.

Before Spunky made a very sudden turn for the worse, he visited me in the kitchen. He came not to eat (even though we cooked him fish and shrimp because he wasn't eating very well). I think he came to say "hello" and "goodbye".

I wasn't overly concerned about his choosing not to eat breakfast that morning. Our cats have a habit of nosing the food at one feeding and then gulping lots of food at the next. Plus they have a limitless supply of crunchies which we top up all the time, which our cats believe means "wow! this must be new, different and exciting food!) If we went to the vet every time the cats weren't interested in wet food, we would be there twice a day. They are funny that way.

And besides I had a vet appointment for Monday just to double check how Spunky was doing because he had just cleared up a massive infection and had been diagnosed with an auto immune deficiency which he had meds for.

But there was more going on with Spunky than we realised.

He has been in and out of the vet the past year due to chronic respiratory infections, which seemed to clear up with antibiotics. He was sleeping with us on the bed, and loved the warmness of the spare bedroom for whatever reason heats up like a sauna. We would let him hang out in there whenever he wanted to, usually unbothered by other cats.

Chris and I went out to see the latest Terry Gillian movie and came back to find him unable to move, and very listless. In a matter of hours, he went from being a little tired and fussy to very sick.

I tried to give him IV fluids but his body was so thin at this point I didn't even know where to poke the needle. So we decided to head to the Emergency Vet Clinic, at least to stabilize any dehydration.

I thought we would be there a few hours and then he would come home, a little annoyed, but hydrated and ready to eat. But after blood and urine work and an ultrasound, we were told by the vet that they had discovered cancer and fatty liver disease and would never be well enough to come home.

Initially, we wanted to give him 24 hours to recover; it was our hope that the vet was wrong and he could at least spend a few days at home and be euthanized this week. But I called the vet again and asked how he was, and she said "uncomfortable" and that there was no chance he would ever be able to come home. Delaying euthanasia, at that point, would be about our needs - not Spunky's.

Minutes after hearing the news, we rushed down to the clinic. We had decided to both spend the night at a friend's house because she lived 3 minutes from the clinic, and we wanted to be available to come down, any hour of night, should he take a turn for the worse. I figured this was us being hypervigilant, protective parents. I honestly didn't believe that this would happen.

We stayed with Spunky while he went to sleep and never woke up. He could barely move and his eyes were glazed over. I had asked for extra pain medication so he definitely was dozed from that but I want all beings (human and non-human) to die with dignity and without any discomfort.

I held him in my arms as the vet administered the euthanasia medication, and he quietly drifted to sleep. His head drooped and his body went still.

I told Chris that I didn't think my heart could break anymore. We recently put down Christmas, and before that, Shadow and Roxy. If "cat rescue" is all about death, I don't think I want any part of it.

But rescue is more than death. It is also about being woken up by snuggles and cats chewing your hair as you sleep. It is about cats become happier, healthy beings after medical treatment, and subsequently, becoming more loving. It is about cats sitting on your lap, on your computer, and on your shoulders. It is even about cleaning tons of litter because that means that they are eating and drinking well and are happy and healthy.

I return to work tomorrow, a day after putting down another beloved cat. I will try and remember the wonderful things about rescue rather than focus on death. I will remember all Spunky's quirks (drinking from a running tap, sleeping on vents, even how he initially hid from us when we first got him, before he learned that we were alright people.)

Rest in peace, Spunky.