Cat Years

I'm a little down today. I've just spent three months sitting a friend's 18-year-old cat. I've been a semi-regular cat-sitter for the past few years, and during that time, the cat and I have really bonded. (Well, I've really bonded with the cat anyway. She's super-friendly, and doesn't really care who's around as long as she's getting constant attention. She even sleeps in bed with you!)

In the last week before my friend got home, the cat started to get sick. Vomiting, not eating food, looking and acting generally unwell. I took her to the vet who gave me some pills to boost her appetite, and took some blood, but she couldn't really do anything else until I got a hold of the owner. (I could have paid for treatment myself, but I simply didn't have an extra $300.00 for an overnight stay.) My friend got back to me the next day and said that, unless the cat seemed to be in incredible pain, to simply do what I could to keep her comfortable until she got home. The cat actually seemed to improve a bit. She started eating, although only soft food, was drinking a good amount of water (not too much or too little), and although she was a bit constipated, it seemed that the crisis was over.

Well, my friend got home, and the next day the cat took another turn for the worse. We got a phone call that she couldn't make the BBQ we'd planned, because it looked like the cat would need to be put down that night. But once again, kitty stared death down and seemed to improve.

Yesterday, I got a page. My friend is out of town for the weekend for work, and she was able to find someone to look after the cat from 6pm on Friday until she came home. The problem was, she was flying out at noon, which meant the cat would be alone for over six hours. Since I haven't had the chance yet to return her key, she wondered if I'd stop in for a few hours, just to make sure the cat wasn't in too much distress. Of course I said yes.

Normally when you walk into the apartment, the first thing you see is the cat standing on the stairs, crying about how she's been all alone for so long. Yesterday, instead of the cat, there was a bowl of water. At the top of the stairs, another bowl of water. Numerous bowls were scattered around the apartment, most of them near a makeshift cat bed. I found the cat on one of these beds in the bathroom. She was curled up with her eyes open, and lying so still that at first I was sure she was dead, but as I moved closer she raised her head a bit to look at me. I reached out to pet her, but she pulled her head away a bit so I just put my hand where she could smell it, hoping that she's recognize me by scent. The idea of this cat not wanting a pet is unfathomable, and it was then that I knew just how sick she was. I spent the next several hours watching her move slowly around the blanket trying to get comfortable, and occasionally reaching out for a few painful sips of water from the bowl. She didn't seem to know what to do with her legs - they were getting in the way more than anything - and she sort of dragged herself around instead of walking. She never really succeeded in falling asleep, and occasionally would look up at me with these eyes that would break your heart. It was the same look she gave me the day I took her to the vet, after she started eating again, but before she was able to keep anything down. The same look a sick child gives you when they're too young to say "I'm hurting. Why aren't you helping me?"

I know she's dying. I know that yesterday was the last time I'll ever see her. And I'm glad that I had a chance to say good-bye, even though I don't think she knows who I am anymore. But I'm nearly as upset over this as I will be when my parents call to say that our cat is dying. It seems wrong, in a way, because she's not mine. I've only known her for a few years, and then only intermittently, but I love that cat. I need to have a good cry over this, I think. I need to call my mom, who's the only person I know that can send a hug over the phone. But right now I need to push this down and not think about it, because I have a long day's work ahead of me, and I can't afford to spend my day thinking about the dying cat.