This is a picture of my cat, Rumpleteazer. I think she was mabye 12 or 13 when I took this picture. Now she’s nearly 18 and she’s finally starting to show the ravages of old age.
We suspect (and suspect the vet will confirm it for us when we take her in later this week) that she has kidney disease. She’s been drinking a lot and her liquid output has been considerably higher than normal. She’s also lost a LOT of weight in the last few weeks. I can now feel each and every vertebra in her back when I pet her and it’s kind of creepy. She also keeps getting her claws stuck on things because we think she’s lost the fat pads in her feet which allowed her claws to stay safely tucked away when she wasn’t using them for things.
Eighteen years is a long time for a cat. I cried for over an hour this afternoon when the Husband and I were discussing what needed to be done. I don’t want to have to put her to sleep, but if it’s time it’s time. We don’t KNOW that she’s suffering..cats are ridiculously good at hiding that. But we think she might be. And we can’t let her continue to suffer this way..it isn’t fair.
I’m worried about what my son is going to think and feel in all of this. He’s never known a day in his entire life without Rumpleteazer who has been his frenemy throughout all of this. When he was younger, she learned to keep him out of her face by giving him a few solid (claws pulled in) whacks to the face. She would whack him also if he tried to step over her when she was laying on the floor. It got so that if she saw him heading for the hallway, she’d race ahead of him and flop down in the middle of the floor KNOWING he wouldn’t step over her. So of course he’d yell for me to come move her and give me that stupid smug look every time I did. This will be the first death he’s EVER had to deal with in his short life and I’m worried about how he’s going to take it.
Hell. I’m worried how I’m going to take it. Because I am so not ready for this. Then again..is anyone?