Fat Cat

I gave up on the 30 Days of Thanks. I'm very thankful for everything in my life: My family, my friends, and so on and so forth. But I hit a wall on Tuesday. I woke up Tuesday morning and realized I was too damn tired to get out of bed. Two weeks left in the quarter, and I was done. If I didn't have the energy to go to work (which I did because I had to teach), I didn't have the energy to write about being thankful for random crap.

The other reason? I've known for two weeks I would probably be writing this post before the month was over.

My other cat? Fat Cat? Alexsi? I put him down this morning.

He's been sick for a few weeks. He developed a nasty case of diarrhea literally overnight two weeks ago. He was eating and drinking, but he had bad stuff coming out of both ends. A trip to the vet and some medicine, things seemed to be better--for a few days.

The poop issues never got as bad as they were but other things got worse and his eating habits began to change. And then 48 hours ago he began drinking more. And then even more. This morning he didn't want to eat. When a 23 pound cat won't eat, it's time to call the vet.

Two weeks ago my gut was telling me this was the beginning of the end, but where that end would be was unknown. But I also knew that at twelve years old and with some of his other health issues, things could get very bad, very fast. When I went to the vet this morning, even when I called, I knew what the outcome would be. When I got there, I started crying before the vet even entered the room.

Blood tests showed his blood sugar had more than doubled from where it had been two weeks ago (and it was normal). The conversation went from the possibility of what was wrong to what was wrong: diabetes and possibly pancreatitis. And we began to talk about treatment: Give him some medication now in addition to a shot of insulin. That would hold him for 12 hours but I should be aware that I may need to take him to the emergency vet tomorrow (with it being Thanksgiving and all). Then bring him back on Friday to talk about further treatment.

No.

Diabetes in cats is treatable. And sometimes it gets better. Pancreatitis is treatable, it can go away, and it isn't always painful. But Alexsi's body was beginning to give out due to his terrible arthritis. The vet speculated that some of his slow and cautious movement may be due to the onset of diabetes (he had been moving much slower over the last week or two). Although he was probably at the beginning of diabetes, considering how quickly his blood sugar spiked, he was probably going to go downhill, fast.

Alexsi looked normal. He was friendly, attentive, cuddly, and just all around wonderful. But he wasn't going to stay that way. I asked the vet if thinking about putting him down made me a terrible person and if thinking about doing it at that moment made me a bad pet owner. Absolutely not, she said. We had similar feelings towards prolonged medication for pets with chronic illnesses. It was more us than for them.

More crying, and after Alexsi was given a sedative, I left. Bawling.

I got Alexsi in 2000. I didn't want another cat. He came from the humane society after being found behind a dumpster. He wasn't the cuddliest cat, but he was cute. And funny. And he and Sasha were the best of friends. He grew on me, fast. A few months after I got him, I wasn't able to get to my dad's for Thanksgiving due to weather. So, I hunkered down for five days with the cats. Alexsi and I bonded.

He had a distinct personality. He was laid back and calm, but when he wanted something, he told you. He threw his head back and put all of his weight behind his meow. He was a head butter. He thought he could sneak and creep on to your lap. He never seemed to realize just how big he was, and he was pretty fearless.

Alexsi, sleeping

Two years ago he got very, very sick, and I thought I was going to lose him then. I didn't. From that point on, I saw every day I had with him as something extra. When I lost Sasha I was worried how he'd react. He became the cuddler I never knew he was.

Alexsi went out quietly. Sasha went out with lots of drama. It fit both of their personalities. I had them both twelve years. I got them ten months apart, and I lost them ten months apart. For the first time in twenty years, I am cat-less.

Alexsi was a wonderful cat with a personality that everyone remembered. He was an amazing companion, and, like Sasha, I moved him four times through three different states. He slept through all of it. He was calm and chill and just plain cool.

Alexsi sleeping while he travels over the Rocky Mountains

Thank you, Alexsi, for twelve years of devoted companionship. As I was getting ready to leave him today, I whispered, "I love you, Beavis. I wish I could fix this." And the vet said, "It's obvious he loves you, too."

Rest in Peace, Alexsi.