We have 3 adopted cats from when our next door neighbor went to assisted living. The eldest of the 3, Simon, has been acting strangely the last few weeks. He was either not eating much or trying to swallow food whole and then throwing it back up. Sometime in the last 10 days M and I noticed he was not eating at all. M finally got an opportunity to lure him in with the brush and discovered a goose egg sized knot on his neck that was very tender to the touch.
C, our resident vet tech cat expert, recommended we take him to the vet for determination. There were tests done, an overnight stay, and we got the results this morning – cancer.
We love, Love, LOVE our fluff buckets, but we are supremely practical people. M had asked the vet some specific questions about quality of life, how long he thought Simon might continue to enjoy his life, and most importantly, was he in any pain? Since he has mostly stopped eating and drinking (they had to use an IV on him during his stay), the vet did not think it would be all that long, and from the way he moved and acted when his neck was touched, the tumor was causing him some pain.
Since Simon has mostly be lazing around the deck and yard through the weekend, we decided that perhaps it was kinder to all of us to put him down sooner rather than later. I came home from work and brushed him (and cried while doing so) as he mostly purred and slept while I ran it through his soft fur. In just the few days he was even thinner, did not move around much at all, yet would barely tolerate either of us handling him unless we were brushing his fur. He would take no treats from our hand, not drink any water or dip his paws in the pool. If we tried to pick him up he would hiss and scratch at us, something than has not happened since our first early months of taking them under our wing.
M ended up taking him to the vet alone; I simply could not do accompany him. The saddest thing to me was getting home tonight and seeing the empty cat carrier and the remaining 2 fluff buckets on the deck awaiting dinner.
Rest in peace, sweet Simon. You are missed.