Good Night, Baby

Bullwinkle's last morning in the sun

I said my last good night to Bullwinkle yesterday. There were so many ups and downs throughout his illness that I sometimes felt as though I were watching a ping pong game -- he's winning! he's losing! he's holding his own!

And he did indeed seem to be holding his own earlier this week. But his last descent was sudden and steep: from trying to eat shrimp Wednesday night to a bleeding mouth that was starting to smell bad again on Thursday evening, to what appeared to be unbearable pain last night, even after pain meds.

I will write more -- but not right now. Thank you all so much for your support for both of us -- it has meant more than I could ever express.

Brave Troopers

Bullwinkle and Auntie Martha:

Is that her left shoulder?

(We were all younger then.)

Bullwinkle seemed very anxious this weekend every time I left the house, and he spent as much time with me as he possibly could while I was home. Today was another 13-14 hour day for me, and even though Aunties Martha and Lina came over to feed him dinner, Bullwinkle seemed very disgruntled by the time I got home: he was crying piteously and wouldn't come over to see me. I picked him up and he climbed onto my shoulder (the left one of course) where he has stayed ever since. I am actually flushing his feeding tube as I write because he will not be dislodged.

He really doesn't feel very good -- yet, it still doesn't seem to me as if he's ready to give it up. He's been a very brave, stoic, and heroic trooper; if I'm ever in his situation, I hope I behave even half as well as he has.

Auntie Martha (photo above) is quite the brave trooper herself: she gave away one of her kidneys to a perfect stranger, in an historic 3-way "paired donation" a couple of years ago -- and KRQE aired a show about her experience this morning. You can see it here. Bullwinkle & I are very proud that she's our friend.

Back to Bullwinkle: I'm worn out worrying about him and grieving for him. When I woke up this morning, he was curled up in a tiny, tight little ball and was very still. For a moment I thought he had died in his sleep -- and then I saw him breathing and realized he was still alive. The relief I felt for that short moment made me understand that what bothers me more than anything is the prospect of actually putting him down. I so wish he would die peacefully in his sleep....

Reprieve!

Dr. Blackshear came and spent quite a bit of time with Bullwinkle & me this afternoon. The short form of the story is that, while she said it wouldn't be premature to put him down today, she also said that if it were her cat, she wouldn't do it yet. Plus she said she has known -- it's been real clear -- when it was time to put down her own pets. Since it was certainly clear to me when it was time to put Jezebel down, I'm going to try to trust myself and wait for that time with Bullwinkle too. Not to mention that Dr. Blackshear doesn't seem to think he's suffering terribly at this point (and he does seem quieter and more peaceful than he has since before the last chemo treatment).

So that's the story in a nutshell; I cried all day long and am exhausted. But I do feel privileged and relieved to be able to spend more time with my baby kitty-boy.

Bullwinkle snoozing on my shoulder this morning.