This day will not end well.
Hobbes the Wonder Cat has an appointment with the vet late this afternoon, and it may be his last. The poor little bastard has lost a third of his body weight, and not because of our having starved him as I first thought. He simply isn’t eating, and he smells awful. I think he’s uremic (kidney failure). He just staggers around or sits all day in a weird position and stinks. The old boy is not well, as they say. Thirteen years we’ve had him, too, I believe.
I told my wife that if the verdict was bad, that I wouldn’t have him put down today, but would bring him home to “say goodbye” first. How pathetic is that? Just shows you where my psyche is at these days. I’ll have to bring him home anyway, dead or alive, and if he’s still breathing, I won’t need to dig a hole. Jesus, I hate coming back from the vet with a dead animal. I hate grieving, for that matter. Seems like I’ve been grieving my entire life, but I must not be doing it right. Not feeling the full impact? Probably.
The poor little guy just urped a little pool of mucus and barf on the coffee table, then climbed up near my chair to gas me out with his ammonia breath. That’s renal failure, I’ll bet you a thousand bucks. I don’t want him to die, though. For the two and a half years I lived here alone while my wife was in Dubuque, he was my only companion. He slept on the bed every night and shared every nap I ever took. It just isn’t fair for a creature so loving and helpless to fall by the wayside when family criminals and murdering heads of state get off with no reckoning. I remember the last time I took a seriously ill cat to the vet and brought her home in a box. That wasn’t quite as bad as taking my last dog to the clinic and coming home with an empty collar. (Lady, dear Lady, where are you now?)
And now it’s the awful holiday season. “Family” this and “family” that. Family, family, family… As far as I’m concerned, I’m simply an orphan. I have my siblings (I think), although I rarely hear from them, and I have my wife’s family. But every time I hear about a halfway normal parent, I want to drive back to Maryland and start pissing on graves.
Still.
It might not sound like it, but I’m okay. It’s just the Great Sadness: Hobbes, my mother, the millions of people the government has killed in my name, all the lost species, the garbage-filled oceans… It’s like I’m tapping into a universal source: feel one heartache, get pounded by millions.
I don’t know what this means, but I think I have to process it. At least I know I can. I’ll start by taking Hobbes to the vet in just a little while. If I come back with a limp kitty, it’s going to hurt like hell. More than it should, perhaps, or would, except for the Great Sadness, where everything resonates.
(Tears, meditation, and a very long nap…)
UPDATE: I already had my cry and was ready to come home with a dead cat, but Hobbes is still of this earth. He’s also 14.5 years old, not 13, and he has lost a full third of his body weight over the last year. THAT can’t last… The little bastard passed all his blood tests and doesn’t have kidney failure after all, so aren’t you all sorry you didn’t take me up on that bet? What he does have is probably cancer of the lymph nodes, for which there is no cure, although he can have kitty chemotherapy to gain a little time. So I don’t know what we’re going to do beside just keep an eye on him. No chemo, though. The normal life span for a cat like this is about 15 years.
The Great Sadness is still here, however. It’s like I sent out (down?) a probe, and that’s what’s coming in. I’ll just have to put my poet’s soul to work on it and see what I can come up with.
UPDATE #2: Progress of a sort, with stupendous insight! The Great Sadness is related to abnegation of self. (Aren’t you glad you asked?)
As regards Hobbes the Wonder Cat, grieving is essential, but so is compassion. Love balances loss. And if he suffers, we suffer, too. That wouldn’t equal compassion for anyone. He’s eaten maybe half a teaspoon of wet food today. His meowing sounds strangled, and now I know why: the swollen lymph nodes and likely tumor pressing against his throat. Other than that, he doesn’t seem to be hurting, but he hardly moves all day. The era of Hobbes is drawing to a close, but what a life he’s had.
I’ll probably write about it.
Comment by Chipper Thompson
1 December 1, 2008, 3:03 pm o'clock |
I feel for you with mighty weight, my friend. My cats are often-as-not like my kids, I guess, and I sure have a hard damn time when they pass on. I am glad that I got to hang out with ol’ Hobbes for a few hours recently, and I know he’s lived a fine life of blue skies and mice and sunshine naps.
Hang in there, buddy.
Comment by Richard
2 December 1, 2008, 3:57 pm o'clock |
I’m sorry to hear about this.
It always gives me hope that if we can learn to live with something as alien and unpretentious and “in the moment” as another species, there’s hope for us to learn to live with each other.
However it works out, I hope both you and Hobbes (and your wife) find some peace and mercy.
Comment by Steve Ingham
3 December 2, 2008, 8:09 am o'clock |
I feel your pain John having been through nearly exactly the same thing a year or two ago with a 15 year old cat. If nothing else, they do make pain meds for animals and that might at least make his days tolerable……….Again, such a shame that helpless, and totally unconditional loving creatures wind up like you describe when all the other SOB’s who deserve to suffer DON’T!!
Praying for the Best for You AND Hobbes!!
Steve
Comment by Steve Ingham
4 December 2, 2008, 9:48 am o'clock |
One more thought - if you can stand it…..if the time comes and YOU have to make the decision, I thought I would mention that our Vet - in her effort to be kind and/or show compassion - sent us a last photo of our cat in her Condolensces card after putting our cat down, but one nice thing she did, although it literally broke my heart and broke ME down, was to make a plaster cast of our cats paw print and sent that along as well……Hopefully, I pray, you will not have to deal with these issues for YEARS…..but just in case, just sharing…..nice touch, but still awful to deal with…….the emotional bond with our animals is almost equal to the Love and Ties we have for our children…..some might argue even more so……..Again, our thoughts and prayers are with you and Hobbes!!
Steve : (
Comment by Melissa Phillips
5 December 2, 2008, 12:48 pm o'clock |
John,
I’m sitting at my desk at UT and tears are streaming down my face for lil’ Hobbes. He looks so much like our cat, Tony and I know how much he means to you and Kathy. I was fortunate to meet him when you lived in San Christobal and I thought he was such a cool, laid back guy. I feel for you two. Just know that you and Kathy gave him the most wonderful cat life he could possibly have had. He got loved all of his life and that’s more than I can say for alot of us. Know that we send our love to you and lil’ Hobbes. Bless his little heart!
Comment by Murr
6 December 2, 2008, 1:53 pm o'clock |
I can only echo the comments so far… I am sad to hear that that most excellent fellow Hobbes is so sick.
I have always enjoyed John’s tales of Hobbes… the last time I recall seeing a lovely photo of him; his face planted into the sofa and with a lovely splash of sunshine falling on him.
I recall how I worried for him whenever you told us the coyotes were all about.
Let him know someone in Winnipeg sends him a long-distance ear rub…
Comment by John H. Farr
7 December 2, 2008, 2:05 pm o'clock |
I had no idea Hobbes had so many fans! Thank you all so much.
He’s going to do what he’s going to do. We’re certainly not going to get into biopsies and kitty chemo here, nor are we going to administer steroids, which I was told might also help for a little while. The truth is that he’s getting old and seems to be tapering off on us… He probably has another six months of relative well-being in him — relative, I say — and we’ll be watching for signs of discomfort, etc. If he’s obviously hurting, then that’s it: we put him down.
Right now he looks a little “stricken” some of the time, and of course he isn’t eating much at all, but he still sits on laps and purrs up a storm.
It’s interesting how this plugs into my own psycho-emotional saga (the “Great Sadness”) — all roads lead to home, as it were. I realize most of that is incomprehensible to anyone outside of the confines of my head & heart, but rest assured it’s valid, useful, and only good.
Comment by Byron
8 December 3, 2008, 6:43 am o'clock |
John, a coupal years ago you sent me a photo of Cali the Wonder Cat. Does she still grace you with her presence?
Comment by John H. Farr
9 December 3, 2008, 2:08 pm o'clock |
Byron: Yes! She doesn’t get along with Hobbes — his fault — but she’s living with us now, and not just as a “studio cat.”