I write this post with a heavy heart.
My gorgeous Lily-Cat is sick. She has CKD (Chronic Kidney Disease). She’s only eight years’ old. I did think I would have had a good few years yet before I had to worry about this kind of thing.
Luckily, it was picked up early during an appointment for dental surgery.
The vet was concerned about her losing weight so decided to take blood while she was under the anaesthetic. The results were conclusive. Creatine levels were well above normal.
The vet noted that she was dehydrated and kept her in overnight to administer intravenous fluids and stabilise her so she could undergo the arranged dental work.
I toddled into the surgery to see her on my way home from work that evening. It was a funny sight.
She was lying on a blanket with her paw in a cast to prevent her from trying to remove the fluid line. As soon as she spotted me, she was over the moon. She almost sprang up on her feet and started meowing and purring.
The veterinary nurses told me they hadn’t got a stroke of work done all day because she had learned how to attract their attention.
Whenever a nurse walked past the cage, she thrust out a well-placed paw to swipe them on the arm! Inevitably, this would lead to a stroke of her head, some fuss and a friendly voice.
Despite my sadness, I could see she was in both good spirits and good hands. Everyone loved her. They said she was the most beautiful cat they had ever seen, and I have to agree.
Lily has been such a constant in my life. She has been with me through a divorce, and my other ups and downs. She’s there with me when I’m feeling under the weather – she sits on the bed and watches to make sure I’m not too bad. She licks my tears when I cry and she provides companionship when I’m lonely. There have been times in my life when I have felt she is my closest friend.
When I arrived home from the vets that evening, I held my head in my hands and sobbed.
Regular followers of this blog will know how I saved her life when she was a tiny kitten, suffering hypothermia. I remember holding her in one hand while I held a small bottle of warm milk to her mouth, willing her to regain consciousness.
Well, she was a fighter then, and she’s a fighter now. According to the vet, she’s unlikely to be feeling at all ill at this point. Other than a little weight loss, she’s not yet symptomatic.
She is still hunting a little and still playful in the right mood.
Despite a change to the special renal diet, she seems to be eating well too.
So, the prognosis is good, and as long as she keeps eating well and her charming personality continues to shine, then it’s likely we shall have a few more years together before I have to say goodbye.
This experience has driven home the message that we should cherish our nearest and dearest while they are still with us.
I am lucky that I have been given a warning so I can spend more time with her while she still has a good quality of life.
I’m sure the family of the late Robin Williams wish they had had this opportunity.