He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.

On September 7th, Hilary and I got a wonderful black cat from the SPCA. He was about 10 weeks old, and we named him Java.

He came home with a nasty cough, but that is common for cats that have been living in the close quarters of the shelter. The vet told us to give it a week, and he'd get well and we could carry on with his required vaccinations.

His cough cleared up, but he continued to have a fever, and lost interest in food and toys. We switched his diet to only wet food, and he started eating more, but still was not well, and losing weight rather than gaining it. We've been dosing him with meds twice a day, bringing him to the small animal hospital at least once a week, while the vets tried to figure out what was going on.

Well, today we know. He has (effusive) Feline Infectious Peritonitis. If you don't want to follow that link, here's the bullet point version:

• Non-contagious, immune system disease found only in cats
• No cure, and very limited palliative care available
• Behaviorally, cats conceal symptoms, so by the time diagnosis is made, the end is near

I've only known Java for a month, but in that time I've come to love him dearly. Perhaps I will know him for two months, but probably not three.

During the phone call reporting the results of the lab work, the vet gently suggested that we could have him put down any time. I think Hil and I will hold out until Java stops eating or drinking, or his breathing becomes labored. He doesn't seem to be suffering now, but I don't want to prolong his life past when it becomes a burden to him.

The animal hospital is just three miles away. It's a ten minute drive.

I'm not sure I'll be able to make that drive.

Posted by: Boviate at 12:55 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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