It's been a few days since my last blog update, and those days have, for the most part, not been good. He is just not responding to his treatment and medicine like we had hoped. We are back up to 2 I/V treatments daily, but it doesn't look like his broken down little body is making any progress.
He's clearly not the same cat he used to be. He has lost his sparkle; his energy; that "je ne sais quoi" that made him so special. What he hasn't lost is his sweetness, though. I take him into the bedroom and lock the door, away from the other cats, and spend some time with him, which he adores. He is so loving and appreciative of the extra attention. I spent about 15 minutes just rubbing his belly this afternoon and this seemed to be the happiest he has been in recent memory; even so, his eyes get heavy and he can barely lift his head to show me how much he loves it. He tries, though.
It's difficult for me to process the fact that this wonderful creature is not likely to make it to the relatively young age of 12. We haven't completely given up hope, we are going to continue the intensive treatments for a few more days and hope for a miracle, but it seems so unlikely at this point. We could keep him alive indefinitely, probably, doing what we are doing, but that's not fair to anyone. I think Tracey and I have both come to the realization that it's almost time for our special boy to rest. Unless something dramatically changes, I suspect that by this time next week, he will have left us. That will be a very, very hard day.
Keep him in your thoughts, if you don't mind. I'm not sure I'm the type to believe in the power of positive thinking, but at this point, it sure as Hell can't hurt.
Thanks all,
Dean
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