Meet Charlie (left) and Adam (right).
When Charlie first moved in a year ago as a tiny kitten, Adam was frightened (having been traumatized by his previous living situation where dogs and cats were constantly in and out, his psyche can't really handle meeting new people or animals). It didn't take long, however for them to become close friends-- grooming and loving each other. Once we caught them in a position that looked suspiciously like mating, despite the fact that they were both sterilized.
On Monday night I noticed that Charlie was moving slowly. She looked almost as if she was limping, but she wasn't favoring any of her legs in particular. When she stopped, she crouched down and was breathing heavily. She continued this behavior through to the next morning, when I got her an emergency appointment with her vet. The doctor examined her and found fluid in her lungs. When she asked about pre-existing conditions, I remembered that a few months ago Charlie's mother (who lives in Vermont with Miranda's mother) tested positive for Feline Leukemia. Charlie also tested positive. In addition, she had a bad infection and bloody fluid in her chest, which likely indicated a mass or some other complication.
Miranda and I were given two options: 1) Drain the fluid and take her home on antibiotics, hope she feels better for a while (but understand that she is, and always will be sick) or 2) Euthanize her. Based on advice from the doctor, limited finances, and poor prognosis, we opted to put our little kitty to sleep.
Surprisingly, other than the moments when I had to tell the doctor to euthanize her, and when the receptionist handed me her empty carrier later in the day, I have been fairly emotionless. I am not sure if this is because it hasn't hit me, or because I simply wasn't that attached to her. It is quite surreal that a few days ago we had a rambunctious kitten running around hiding our pens and other small objects under furniture, and now she no longer exists (essentially).
Adam, however, is certainly feeling her loss. He has become instantly lonely and insatiably needy. He doesn't adapt well to changes. And what's worse is that, since feline leukemia is contagious, he now needs to be tested. I may be complacent about Charlie's death, but I know that I would not be so removed from Adam's. We will know next week.
Until then, a bonus shot of Charlie and her siblings when they were teeny tiny. Note that Charlie looked just like her mom.
10:56 - Thursday, Apr. 19, 2007
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a poetry reading - Friday, Nov. 30, 2007
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