Back in the fall, I found out my cat had a tumor the size of an egg in her abdomen. I cried because my options were a painful, risky surgery or to let her live out her days knowing this tumor would kill her.
I opted for the latter not wanting to put my 15-year-old tabby through an arduous operation. The thought of her dying on the operating table or being in severe pain post-surgery was too much to bear.
Now, she is in her final days and it is hard. So hard. I knew it would be, but this is a loss layered on top of so many this past year, including the heartbreaking loss of my mother-in-law. Knowing that yet another blow is coming is gutwrenching.
But there’s no way to stop what is ahead. Zara is slowing down. We knew this was coming, but for so many months, she was doing well. Her attitude and habits were pretty much unchanged since the fall. She sat with me as I quarantined with COVID. She comforted us both after the loss of my mother-in-law. She squawked at the door to go on the patio. She grumbled when we woke her up in her cat bed. She’d growl if our other cat got within an 18-inch radius.
She’s not doing these classic Zara things anymore, and we’ve had to have some really challenging conversations. Bless Michael for his softness and sense. After a chat with the vet (a call I could not bear), he sat me down and we talked about what was to come.
We had to discuss what our ideal situation would be for her last moments and what would happen after. It’s not pleasant, but I know that having this talk now is best.
For now, I am spending as much time with my sweet Zara as I can. While she can’t do her favorite things like go outside or climb her cat tree, I can still try to make her days as pleasant as possible. This means lots of wet food, treats, fluffy blankets and naps. It means appreciating her purrs when she has the energy and her meows when she’s excited for food.
She’s not the Zara she used to be but she is no less loved or cared for.
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