Little Cat (pictured above, chilling on my couch about two months ago), my beloved companion of 16 years, is going to meet his maker very soon. I was caught by surprise by his sudden medical crisis which began last week (just a few days before I left for my annual family trip to Auburn, Indiana and points west) when I realized that his increasingly odd behavior was attributable to his vision failing. He's so, well, feline that it took me days to realize that he couldn't see and that's why he was refusing to make his usual jumps etc. I brought him to the vet who explained that this was the symptom of underlying, more serious problems. As I drove around the Midwest I was constantly getting dire blood-test results by phone (which was every bit as much fun as it sounds) and I had to arrange for my neighbors and friends to get him into the hospital in my absence. I returned to New York Monday, knowing I would be retrieving the cat in a few days, and I just found out that newer test results confirm that his thyroid and kidney problems are not responding to treatment and that (therefore) this is pretty much the end of the road. He's "comfortable" (not in pain) and he's still energetic, eating, pooping etc. So I'm bringing him home for a few days ("to say goodbye," as the vet put it) and then it's just a matter of days or maybe weeks before he's got an appointment with a needle. I always knew this was coming, of course, but its still horrible as all cat and dog people understand. I had him since he was a kitten the size of a styrofoam cup and he's been a good friend through more than a third of my life and an absolute prince amongst cats.
