SnarKitty

Famous Lines from my Divorce, Vol 2:

Me: SnarKitty's kidneys are failing.
SnarkEx: [Gasp] Oh, No!

I was trying to shock her, and it worked. We were at the restaurant where she had just told me that she wasn't coming back and that she didn't love me. After we argued about who was to blame, she asked me how things were going. So I told her, matter-of-factly, that our my elderly cat's kidneys were failing.

SnarkEx reacted to this news with the appropriate level of horror. It was nice to see her look concerned about something in my household, since her reaction to the separation had been so stoic. But I immediately backpedaled and explained, "It's not necessarily fatal. It's relatively common in older cats and they can live a long time with failing kidneys."

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She goes by many names: little boo, squeakerbot, sweetness, snurfler, boocat, furbot, lil' squeaker, baby cat, kittyboo, sweetheart baby kitty, and potato bug kitty. SnarKitty has been in my life since November, 2000. At the already mature kitty age of six, she had survived a lifetime of experiences before we met. I don't know what those were, since she never talks about her previous life.

She's been the most stable companion in my life over those eight years. She's seen me through library school, two relationships, a new job, four moves, a new kitten, a marriage and divorce, and countless other adventures. She's strictly an indoor cat, but about five years ago she inadvertently found herself outside (thanks to a stupid, careless, moronic housemate) and was lost for 10 days. That was a terrible episode that eventually had a happy ending when my neighbors caught her under their porch.

I never thought I could feel this way about a cat before. She's the awesomest cat ever. She loves lap time and demands affection several times a day. At night she sleeps on the pillow next to me. In the mornings she stands on the bed and squeaks at me while I get dressed. (She has a high-pitched meow that sounds more like a squeak.) She has an eye problem that gives her frequent eyesnot, which I have to wipe away a few times a day. We have a game we play in the mornings where she tries to rub up against me in my nice work clothes and deposit her eyesnot onto them. She sits on my lap when I eat breakfast and headbutts my chin. (This gets cat hair in my cereal, which is one of the prices I have to pay for her kittylove.) In the evenings she cuddles on my lap or on my chest (if I'm lying down) while I watch TV.

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Last March I took her to the vet for her yearly checkup and shots. They noticed a significant decrease in her weight since the last checkup. She'd dropped a pound, which is pretty significant when you only weigh eight to begin with. They did some blood work and noticed a heightened level of something that indicates failing kidneys.

The past six months she's appeared as healthy as ever. She's much more affectionate since SnarkEx moved out, probably because she only has one primary source of cuddling left. With so much fur, it's hard for me to notice that she's thinner than before. But when I took her to the vet this week for a six-month checkup, she'd lost another pound. That's a quarter of her body weight over the past year.

The vet is concerned. Her sudden weight loss is too dramatic to be explained by the normal aging process. He redid her blood work, but her kidneys don't appear to be any worse than they were before. So he doesn't think that accounts for the weight loss. The next step is to give her a kitty ex-ray, to see if he can spot any intestinal problems or cancerous growths. (He was very delicate about bringing up the "c" word.) If that doesn't turn up something, we'll have to consider exploratory surgery.

I might have to make some tough decisions in the next few weeks. The exploratory surgery would cost a buttload. I've already spent several hundred dollars on the bloodwork and will spend another hundred on the ex-rays. Plus, there's no guarantee that the surgery would turn up something, or if it did, that we could do anything about it. She's an older cat (14 years) and the surgery itself could be risky, according to the vet. Of course her life is worth a buttload to me, but not if it just causes her pain and doesn't make her better.

I'm in denial. SnarKitty is happy and healthy. She doesn't show me any evidence of sickness.

Tuesday was a rough day for her. She'd had to go to the vet and get her blood drawn. That evening I came home from tennis and after my shower I plopped down on the couch to unwind before I went to bed. SnarKitty jumped onto my chest and settled in. She purred and rubbed her head against my chin.

She's just fine.