April
22, 2001
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Cleo wasn't interested in food again this morning, not even tuna. This is the third time she's had a Dex shot, eaten well for a day, and then gone downhill. Lloyd thought it was time last week; he thinks she's suffering. And it's clear that she is, but she also has times when she eats with such gusto. It's so hard to make the decision. But she won't eat, and she keeps going back and forth between the window seat and the coffee table. It's become clear to me now that the good times will never again outweigh the bad. She's so thin and weak. She's begun to drink huge amounts of water, despite daily fluids. I think the large doses of steroids may have pushed her into diabetes. For the first time I see blood in her urine. Sadly, the Flagyl is beginning to help. I go out for a long walk at a local park. I keep praying that God will send me the decision, but he doesn't. I sit on my favorite bench by the bend of the creek, writing in my journal. I know it's time, I guess I'm just not ready. I truly thought we'd have more time, but I suppose that you're never ready. When I come back, Lloyd has opened a the window by the window seat. Why didn't we think of this before? Cleo seems to enjoy this. I take her outside briefly. I don't know if she likes it or is scared. We choose the spot for her grave, and Lloyd digs a little grave. We cover it, because it might rain tomorrow. We have leftover fish and a baked potato for dinner — one of Cleo's favorite meals. And she cleans both our plates. But she seems so miserable after, as she lies under the coffee table. I debated with myself whether or not to give fluids to Cleo tonight. She's never particularly enjoyed them, as some cats learn to. In the end I decided to go ahead and do it, because I know they will make her feel a little bit better. She's so easy to give fluids to now (doesn't hurt that I've become extremely good at it). She's so skinny, that I can just kind of roll her up in her catnip pad and she can't really move too much. I light a candle, but I don't want to blow it out. It's as though blowing it out seals Cleo's fate. |
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