He's living out his last days (weeks or months? maybe) on a thick folded blanket in the dining room near the patio doors, where he can see squirrels, birds, lizards and anything else that might wander by. His cocktail of meds appears to be keeping him fairly comfortable. As we wait. My eyeballs are gritty, and I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night. But I can't sleep anymore. Most of all, I am saddest for my sister, who one day found a sweet friendly kitty in her office parking lot. He had a collar on, but she never found his owner, and so, brought him home. And he became "man of the house", where he would walk around the house like he owned the place anytime a workman or a contractor showed up. In reality, though he would mostly just sleep on the porch in the sunshine, dreaming of salmon.
"Most likely lymphoma", the vet said yesterday as she showed us the x-ray of the mass in his chest. We'll find out more in the next few days, but he already is having neurological problems, so the diagnosis at this point is almost moot, and definitely bad.
Don't leave us yet, Charlie, we're not ready.
0 comments:
Post a Comment