Scary 80s miniseries.

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#100BM Day 84

The first day in 14 1/2 years without a cat is going as well as could be expected. Well-wishes continue to come in, I have managed to find joy in ridiculousness on the internet, but every little noise in the house makes me look up and look for my furry friend, and I am still bursting into tears at regular intervals and getting very little done in general.

And, of course, I find myself having though hindsight-y, unhelpful realisations and regrets. I wish I had asked the vet to more thoroughly investigate Hamish’s overgrooming his belly last fall, rather than just accepting the ‘probably stress’ diagnosis. I wish I had paid attention when other cats in the neighbourhood would walk right up to him, or stare at him for long stretches of time from afar, over the last few months, without showing any signs of aggression (which would have been the case last, and every other, year). I wish I hadn’t just thought weight loss and pickiness were symptoms of the old man getting to 84 cat years and being a stubborn little shit; hyperthyroidism wasn’t (just) it. He probably was pretty sick for quite a while and I just didn’t (want to) see it.

But I cannot focus on the past. If I found out he had cancer (which now seems likely) months ago, I have no idea if I would have been emotionally (or financially) able to put him through aggressive treatment. Maybe this was better, despite the last few weeks. I don’t know. I won’t know. But I am sad that I probably could have done (even) better by one of the world’s great spoiled beasties.

Making a batch of chili and going to pub quiz today. I think non-cat routine stuff will do me some good. I will try not to tear-stain either too badly.

One thought on “Scary 80s miniseries.

  1. Rachel

    Oh geez I was worried you might be going through this! I have been thinking the same thing because you ran all of those symptoms by me over the months and I didn’t see a red flag in any of them, except his continued weight loss, which even at first I said was old-cat related too! Cats are amazingly good at hiding when they’re sick (I think it relates to the idea of being kicked out of the pride if you show weakness) and his bloodwork and x-rays were relatively normal even last week! I also felt guilt about Lily’s death because she actually died of a condition that I hadn’t even suspected, and I’m supposed to be the vet! In retrospect I think it would have been harder for both of us if I’d known she had a sinister neurological problem brewing, because I would have wondered about every little thing, and she was always uncomfortable about scrutiny, whether it was medical or just watching her more closely (“what the fuck are you looking at! I’m trying to lick my feet here!”) Treatment for lymphoma, if that’s what it was, would have involved more indignities and ministrations of the sort that Hamish was so grumpy about this last week! Anyway that’s my two cents and I hate to think of you having any regrets, because he had a last week of lying in the garden, spending time with his humans, and even an adventure. Lily’s last week was spent the same way and I’ve come to realize that it was the best way for her, and maybe for Hamish too?

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