My baby

Listening to: 'The Trial' by Pink Floyd, from The Wall

It's hard to believe that Spock, who I have had since he was a little kitten, is seventeen years old, which makes him quite ancient by cat standards. He's been in good health and maintained a kitten-like demeanour all these years.

Yesterday I had an unpleasant reminder of his age. I came home and found him listless, drooling, with laboured breathing that took all his effort. A trip to the vet (which I really cannot afford, but you do what you have to in emergencies) showed him a bit dehydrated and suffering from pleural effusion (fluid in the chest cavity outside the lungs themselves). The vet tapped the chest and drew out 70 ccs of fluid, then put him on Lasix, a diuretic.

The good news is he's breathing easier, has eaten a little, and although he still seems to feel unwell and has a giant yellow polka dot on his side (they had to shave him and use iodine; he's a white cat, so it looks quite lurid), I think he's tons better than when I first found him yesterday. The bad news is that there are, at his age, two main reasons for pleural effusion/congestive heart failure. One is cancer, and they're checking the fluid they drained for neoplasm cells. The other is cardiomyopathy (heart muscle disease), for which there is little to do for him other than some medication to help the heart function a little better. Either diagnosis means I'll probably be resigned to make him as comfortable as possible and if he would otherwise suffer, I'll have him put down.

Spock has been with me through almost my entire adult life. He saw me through a divorce, all the ups and downs over the years, etc. He's had a very good life and I'm trying hard not to be sad, but the idea of a house without his meow and sleeping without him purring at my head is daunting.

Last night, though, he did greet me at the door, so I think temporarily the vet made him feel better. And he gave the vet quite a fight over the X-rays, so he's still feisty. It's always possible that he had an infection, and she gave him an antibiotic. If that's the case, maybe the medicine will be enough. But I know I've been given a wonderful gift, one that I cannot hold forever, and eventually Spock will pass on. That's going to be very difficult. I went in yesterday fully expecting to have to do it then....I'm glad I didn't have to, but I waited too long in retrospect with Buns (who was put down last year) and I refuse to do that again. Spock's quality of life is more important than whether I'm ready to let go.

Anyway, wish us luck. If it has to happen, I hope it will be easy and painless, and I'll do my best to make sure that's the case.