Thinking the worst, because he is a fair skinned cat who has spent a good deal of time sunning himself outside, along with regular patrols around the grounds, I made an appointment for the next day. He had also started sneezing explosively. The vet agreed it looked suspicious and so the next step would be to see a specialist, meaning a trip to Leesburg, an hour away. For all of these doctor appointments, I've had to dose Kota with a sedative. Although the most loving and attentive of companions at home, he has a very pronounced Jekyll and Hyde personality, the worst side displayed in full glory at the vets, regardless of how minor the trip may be. The staff started off entering the exam room armed with huge leather gloves and towels, greeted by ear splitting howls and hisses, until they realized that he was really all mouth and no trousers, and very rarely showed his manicured claws, (a task I undertake at home, an experience accompanied with many lamentations, but with rewards of kisses, cuddles and treats, it's immediately forgotten on release). Soon the doctors learned that Kota really wasn't the formidable beast he liked them to think he was, and they also learned that taking his temperature the old fashioned way was part of the exam that should be left to the very end, (excuse the pun), if attempted at all.
The appointment at Leesburg was traumatic. We went to have a consultation and an MRI, which would reveal results that I didn't want to hear. After chatting to the doctor, Kota had 3 X-rays. These would reveal if the cancer had spread to his abdomen, meaning an MRI would be needless if the cancer was present. He came back into the room with Kota and informed me that my bestest buddy had advanced heart disease, so the MRI couldn't be done; the general anesthesia needed would almost certainly be fatal. He went on to explain that for Kota's cancer to be eliminated would mean a 10-15 day episode of daily chemotherapy, each visit requiring a GA, and this would possible give him a maximum life extension of 10-12 months. My world bottomed out and I could barely take it all in. But after some careful thinking, it seemed best to let nature take its course and let Kota spend his last days in peace at home without any further pain and trauma caused by numerous vet visits, which really wouldn't give him much additional time.
The next few weeks were dreadful and harrowing. I spent much of the time crying and struggling to accept that Kota wouldn't be around much longer. He had stopped many of his usual routines, spending most of his time on his bed in front of the heater and sleeping. He no longer slept on his pillow on my bed, meaning I now had to leave him in the living room each night and then tentatively enter the next morning, my stomach in knots, wondering how he was. He no longer sat on the bathroom window ledge, washing himself while I was in the shower. He no longer sat by the bathroom sink, rinsing his mouth while I brushed my teeth. He no longer sat next to me while I ate, begging for tit-bits, with his eyes crossing as he stared at every forkful traveling to my mouth, his head sometimes tilting completely over to one side, an action he knew I adored and which would result in an immediate mouthful of something tasty. We'd no longer go for hikes around the meadows, he could only walk a few steps and then lay down, his distended abdomen causing discomfort as it filled with fluid.
The one health issue that wasn't too much of a problem during this period was his nose. The cancer initially seemed to cause him some pain, he would avoid touching it to anything, and so all meals were served off a 'table', made from a pile of books with a layer of wrapping paper for a tablecloth. This was evidently much appreciated as he could now sit at his table and just lean over to grab mouthfuls, with me standing by to shove any food that he'd inadvertently nudged to the furthest away part of the dish, back to within easy reach. The brown scab on his nose was after a few days knocked off, presumably by a paw, but this seemed to be a relief. I dabbed some prescription steroid cream on it and it grew back again, but this time with no ill effects. A week later, this one too disappeared and a third scab started to grow, although much more slowly and with a smaller one to the side of it. But again, his nose gave him no problem at all, and his sneezing fits had stopped.
I took him twice to have his belly drained, each time having to sedate him before we went, and he also had a sedative shot upon arrival, since a GA was out of the question. The fluid was causing a lot of discomfort and this was visible on Kota's face. I had been getting to work very early, usually by 5:30am, so I could leave work early, and then complete any rush jobs from home. I'd be home by 2 and would promptly open the doors so Kota could be outside. He loved to sit on his pillow placed on a chair, eyes closed, and just sniff the breezes, his nose jutting upwards, so every aroma was captured. I would sit next to him as he hated it if I left him alone and went indoors. We would still take daily hikes, but now with me carrying him, so he was perched over my shoulder purring like a tractor, as we made our way across the fields, down to the pond, through the woods, often ending up at his favorite steps where we would sit a while, sometimes watching the dusk fall and the stars begin to twinkle. I would stretch out on my stomach so he could lay on my back, his paws resting on my shoulders. When his little body was swollen it was nearly impossible for him to roll outside, something him and Rosie Lee loved to do as soon as they went outside. He was also unable to wash himself properly so I would help him daily with a soft face cloth soaked in warm water and then gently rub him down with a micro fleece towel afterwards. He purred throughout the routine.
Throughout this ordeal little Rosie Lee's gentle character has shined. She has rarely shown jealousy at Kota's extra attention, instead, sits by him or washes him and waits patiently with a big greeting when we return from our daily hike. They have both been receiving the tastiest of meals. I've been buying the more expensive brands and trying to find those lower in sodium. Treats have become more frequent, especially the little individual foil packs with a morsel of salmon, tuna or chicken inside. Rosie Lee doesn't enjoy any human foods so she always has the cat treats whereas Kota has had mouthfuls of peanut butter, cheese, liverwurst or ham, often with his meds hidden inside.
We were greeted warmly at reception and Kota promptly began his caterwauling. I had refrained from giving him a sedative on this visit since he would only be having an exam and an ultrasound, no nasty needles this time. He took full advantage of this fact and let everyone in the building know he was present. The doctor needed to listen to his heart but was unable to hear anything with his yowling, so carried Kota to the window. The racket stopped as Kota took an immediate interest in outside and I was informed that his heart rate was extremely low. The ultrasound results were also bad,his heart was very enlarged with a fatty build up, a genetic fault, not dietary; the doctor actually said Kota looked exceptionally good for his age and despite his poor health. So we were given bottles of pills with more prescriptions to be filled in a couple of days. He did get a dreaded shot of medicine at the end of the consultation, but at least his temperature wasn't taken. We set off for home, having been told that Kota's life expectancy was 5-6 months at best. But hopefully, they will now be weeks without pain and discomfort.
The past few days have shown a marked improvement in Kota's condition. The fluid has been slowly draining from his body thanks to the Lasix, and even though we've stopped the Prednisone, his appetite or attitude haven't diminished. His nose scab has dropped off again, but still his nose isn't giving him any issues. Because of the cold weather that has suddenly arrived, our time outside has diminished, but he looks more peaceful when sleeping, and he's back on my lap whenever I'm on the sofa. His face has lost the harrowed, worn out look and he acts happier. So for now our little world has regained some normality, Kota's doctors have given him back his life for a little while longer, albeit a slower version, but at least one without so much discomfort. This little guy has made a massive impression on my life and deserves the best care available, he's family. I'm elated to see those blue eyes looking up at me without any pain, I couldn't ask for anything more, our mission has been accomplished, and this little boy with a huge personality will shine for a while longer yet.
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