One year ago today, my first cat, Scampie died from kidney/renal failure. She was 14 years old, and a much loved member of my family.
It all started about 2 weeks earlier, when we noticed she was vomiting fairly regularly, so we took her to the vet.
He thought it sounded a little like kidney issues so ordered a blood test and put her on a drip, as she was so dehydrated from vomiting. I was surprisingly strong at this news, as I had it set in my mind that it wasn't a big deal, she could just eat special food, and live a happy life for many years to come.
She continued to vomit, and then go for a drip at the vets, and after the drip, she'd be ok for a day or two...
I remember on valentines day, we went for a meal, and Anna gave me a card that had a black cat on it that looked a little like Scampie, and I actually started crying in the restaurant! Maybe it was at that point that I started to realise / believe that things might be a little serious?
Although she would eat, she would vomit it up afterwards, and probably as a result of all the vomiting, went a little off her food, and the vet said that any food or water we could get into her was a good thing, so I went out and bought a load of frozen cod steaks, as she loved them for a treat.
We would boil them up, and virtually hand feed them to her, but it would become harder and harder to get her to eat. The vet would put her on a drip to get some fluids in her as she was quite dehydrated after all the vomiting, and she'd be full of beans again, and actually sometimes keep some food down, much to our rejoicing.
But after a day or so, our hearts would hit the floor again as we heard her start vomiting again, and things were looking desperately bleak. We kinda realised that this was it, and the only hope was that she would go on a drip every other day, and being a feisty cat, that just wasn't going to be possible, and also, we didnt' think that it would be a quality life either.
We called the vet, and made an appointment for him to make the final visit, but it was a Friday, and he couldn't make it till Tuesday, so for the next 3 days we just kept her warm in blankets and towels, and hot water bottles, and fed her tiny scraps of cod if she felt like it.
I don't mind telling you, that to cry every day for a week is a real emotional strain, and once the vet had been and gone, it was certainly a relief! I realised, I wasn't upset because she was going to die, I was upset that she wasn't well, and once she actually passed, I felt more at peace.
I still can't look at the frozen cod steaks in the supermarket without getting a lump in my throat!
One month later exactly, Freya moved in, and I've been happy again. But not a week goes by where I don't think of little Scampie a few times.
Scampie was quite a big cat, but really faded away towards the end!