And now there are three

This is one of the last pictures of Buddy - this was last summer, he was laying in the grass in the backyard watching the rest of the cats.

I took him to the vet this morning to have him put down. Yes - I knew a month ago he was sick. Yes, I knew he stopped having bowel movements about a week after he stopped eating, but he was still drinking water, and knowing that cats will stop eating if their stomachs are upset, I didn't really let it concern me too much. He started losing weight, he was showing signs of severe dehydration, he stopped talking much, all he wanted to do was sleep and not be bothered. I forced some fluids once he stopped wanting to drink water. I made gruel and fed it to him once he stopped taking food at all. Every time I tried to feed him though he gagged.

Let me back up just a little. He always had a hard time when we'd leave and be gone for a few days, and when we were gone in March for 9 days he had a really bad time. When we got back I knew he'd been sick, because he wasn't eating much and didn't want to drink water, so I force fed him for a couple days and then he was OK. In October he had a really bad asthma attack, and refused food for a few days again, and didn't want water either, so I pushed fluids and made gruel for him and after a couple days of that he was back on schedule, but not normal.

Ok, let me back up a little more. Bud was born asthmatic and has always had a hard time. Plus he got fat really early and that didn't help a lot. My vet has been giving me mass amounts of crap about his weight, and wanted me to have him on a liquid lung dialotor every day - which I didn't do, he only had an asthma attack once a year or so, and he would always get back to a reasonable amount of normal after that.

Ok, fast forward to this weekend. Bud refused any liquid or food, he vomited bile on Saturday, and just wanted to be left alone. Chicken me was hoping he'd go outside, crawl under the lilac bush and go to sleep. Reality me knew it wasn't going to happen that way, he was going to make me take him to the vet, so I did that this morning.

Dr. W. was UNHAPPY with me from the minute I got there. WHY if he was going down 3 weeks ago didn't I call? WHY did I allow him to suffer when it wasn't necessary? HE KNOWS he can treat what's wrong with BUD even now, totally dehydrated and shutting down.

NO, I told him, put him down - do it now, don't prolong it, the needle is in the vein, you can't stop now. So - he pushed the plunger, Buddy let out a deep breath, and put his head on my arm, gone.

THEN, Dr. W really got unhappy - he HATES to put down young cats that only needed to be treated from when the symptoms started NOT waiting until it is too damn late. Yes, it was likely diabetis, considering his weight, and NO I didn't want to deal with needles and whatnot, he said there are thousands of cats on insulin and doing fine...There was no reason for delaying so long. Well, I was in tears, and couldn't defend myself at all, so I picked up the carrier, and left.

After I cried all the way home, changed clothes, left and cried all the way to work, and cried through 6 hours of work, and cried all the way home, and so on... now I can think of some reasons why I didn't call the vet a month ago. Because I knew that Dr. W. would say " well, we have to run blood tests, and x-rays, and probes and anesthetetize him and yadda yadda", and a $1,000 bill later, I'd be hearing it's cancer or it's diabetis and its going to require surgery or insulin and daily injections and torture... to which I would say "Put him down".

So I came home and was crying over my appointment book and Shadow came and got in my lap with her dirty little feet and walked cat prints all over my appointment book page for October next year and purred and looked at me, so I wrote on the sheet that those are Shadow's prints.

I'm a bad cat - mother, I know I let him go too long for no really good reason other than I thought he'd come out of it like he did so many times before, or he'd die. I guess this time he just didn't have it in him to fight back again. Yes, I should have taken him to the vet a month ago, but he was in pretty good shape then, and Dr. W. would have fought me to put him down even harder than he fought me today to treat him. I hate doctors.

Here's a picture of Shadow - my little artist: