Today, my cat Tom who had been hiding under the couch for the last two days came out from under and said "Hi, I would like to feel better." He was weak, stumbling a little, and unbelievably thiner than he had been just two days earlier. The skin in front of his ears was also yellow. Charli and I were just shocked. "What has happened to him?"
I arranged to get him right down to the vet, assuring him in the cat carrier that it would be ok, we will get him some anti-biotics, and he would be fine. Just need to get some food into you buddy!" Now I am crying. Shit.
The doctor called a little while ago to tell me that the Billyruben (I know it isn't spelled right, and I really don't care) score for a normal cat is .1 to .6, and Tom was at 11.8. He was suffering quite badly and what did I want to do. "I have never seen a cat with this sort of billyruben survive, his liver is failing. I am sorry."
I love you Tom, I miss you.
1 comment:
I hurt with you, Pat. When I first heard the news, I had a flashback to about 8 years ago when we lost Mr. Bones to a speeding car in front of the house. I was leaving to go to work one early February morning when I saw a lifeless lump in street in front of the house. We rescued him from a dung heap at the horse barns down at the fairgrounds and he turned into the most affectionate cat we ever had. I still miss him. They are family. You don't replace them entirely. But we gave them a pretty good life.
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