I’m not sure if Tiger ate at all the last week of his life.
Aside from being distracted by a newborn baby and child care troubles, we had two cats, so if you’re not specifically paying attention, it’s hard to tell who is eating and who is not. Also, A and I both fed them, and not on any particular schedule, mostly just when they begged, which was often. This is because they would only eat the very freshest food. If we fed them when they weren’t looking, they wouldn’t touch the food (even if they came in 5 minutes later) but would insist on new food. And if we gave them too much at once (say, half a can), it would end up smooshed down on the plate and they wouldn’t eat it. So we’d feed them tiny amounts– a quarter of a can– at a time and often. But this chaotic feeding method, I guess, meant we didn’t notice, but thinking back, I don’t remember Tiger tapping us on the shoulder while we sat at the kitchen table in a while.
The vet keeps leaving messages wanting to review the results of his blood work (incidentally, we incurred $1500 in vet bills on the last day of his life). I don’t really care to hear the details, but I understand that there were huge problems beyond the tumor, that his organs were basically shutting down. I mean, he’s dead, so what is the point of going over just how incredibly sick he was. It will only make me feel worse for not helping him– for not even knowing how incredibly shitty he must have been feeling. The vet once told us that cats hide their illnesses and act normally until they’re really sick.
My only consolation is that he wasn’t acting sick until about a week before he died, by which time it was surely already too late. If I’d taken him in to the vet more promptly, he would have spent the last week of his life in the hospital, being poked and prodded and made even more miserable. This way he was here with us, often curled up with his brother, until the last few hours.
He would have rather have been with you than anywhere else, C. You did the absolute best you could.
I am so sorry to hear about your Tiger. We had a kitty die one week before my son’s first birthday and the guilt was unexplainable. Looking back, she had a good and happy life as I am sure that your Tiger did.
Most of all, I am so sorry.
We have four cats, so we never have any idea who’s eating (or pooping). Tiger was happy where he was. He would have been miserable at the vet’s office and it wouldn’t have helped him anyway. He had the best last week he could have.
When you start to feel guilty, repeat that last truth to yourself:
“This way he was here with us, often curled up with his brother, until the last few hours.”
He was loved, and he was right where he wanted to be.
I agree with the other commenters…he was happy at home with you and it isn’t your fault. Cats are sneaky and unless you know what to look for, most times it is way too late. and in multiple cat households, unless you are stalking them it’s impossible to know who is leaving what and how often in the litterbox (incidentally, this is the issue I’m having as one of my two has quite the over active bladder lately, but enough about me.) I am incredibly sorry for your loss. He was well loved. Hope you feel less guilt soon
Dont feel that way – he had a wonderful life. With two of our cats we did not even know they were sick until the day they died and after we were told their bodies were shutting down. You just dont know. I am really sorry for your loss. I have a 19 year old cat that is still kicking and it amazes me!
Don’t feel guilty. Cats do hide it when they don’t feel good. My Timmy started sleeping more and not coming for love as often. That’s how I knew he wasn’t feeling well. By the point, it was too late. I know I gave him a good life and being at the vet in the end would have just scared him. As it was, he was in his comfy spots until the very end.
I know this is late but don’t beat yourself up. He was where he wanted to be with the people who loved him and his brother, rather than in a sterile cage at the vet wondering where his people were. He was happy, remember that, he was happy.
We are fortunate to live in a rural area and our vets are always willing to come to the house for us.
Unfortunately Alex, who I commented about it your last post was a rescued feral cat. I found him on the side of the road when he was a tiny kitten but he always retained that feral side so he took himself off to die. It still breaks my heart that he’s out there somewhere and not in the cat cemetery with his other brothers and sisters.