farewell, Daffy
 

The vet was just here to pick up my 17.5 year old Orange tabby, Daffy (so
named because he walked like Daffy Duck.) Unfortunately, in recent
months, he had totally stopped using the litter box, for pooping and for
pishing. I'm disabled and my mother is elderly, so we can't clean up
after him, and cleaning the house of cat waste isn't part of the job
description of my aides (they do clean out the litter boxes, which is also
beyond their duties.) We've checked with his current vet, his past vet,
and other vets to see if there was anything that could be done to get him
back to using the boxes, but the consensus was that he's old, and he just
goes when the need hits him, wherever he is. It's a shame, but that's the
sad part of having pets.

He also may be in pain, as he does some extremely loud yelling many times
during the day. It isn't constant, but it is common. He has blood in his
stool, so there could be a problem in his bowels (could even be cancer.)
I've asked the vet to run some tests, in case there is something that can
be treated, which would then restore his box use, but she isn't
optimistic.

Daffy was a good kitty. Friendly to the family, and occasionally to
visitors (usually, he was a chicken, who avoided visitors, but compared to
our other cat Fagin, who runs under a bed at the sound of a doorbell or a
knock on the door - a Pavlovian response he developed - Daffy was super
brave. We don't know why these two are so chicken, as they've never been
mistreated in any way. Fagin, a traditional Siamese I got from a breeder,
started his life with us by spending his first two days here under the
sofa, and has been a chicken ever since. Daffy would sometimes come to
visitors to check them out, and let himself get petted.)


Alan

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farewell, Daffy
 

On Mon, 04 Feb 2008 12:40:53 -0500, wrote:

The vet was just here to pick up my 17.5 year old Orange tabby, Daffy (so
named because he walked like Daffy Duck.) Unfortunately, in recent
months, he had totally stopped using the litter box, for pooping and for
pishing. I'm disabled and my mother is elderly, so we can't clean up
after him, and cleaning the house of cat waste isn't part of the job
description of my aides (they do clean out the litter boxes, which is also
beyond their duties.) We've checked with his current vet, his past vet,
and other vets to see if there was anything that could be done to get him
back to using the boxes, but the consensus was that he's old, and he just
goes when the need hits him, wherever he is. It's a shame, but that's the
sad part of having pets.

He also may be in pain, as he does some extremely loud yelling many times
during the day. It isn't constant, but it is common. He has blood in his
stool, so there could be a problem in his bowels (could even be cancer.)
I've asked the vet to run some tests, in case there is something that can
be treated, which would then restore his box use, but she isn't
optimistic.

Daffy was a good kitty. Friendly to the family, and occasionally to
visitors (usually, he was a chicken, who avoided visitors, but compared to
our other cat Fagin, who runs under a bed at the sound of a doorbell or a
knock on the door - a Pavlovian response he developed - Daffy was super
brave. We don't know why these two are so chicken, as they've never been
mistreated in any way. Fagin, a traditional Siamese I got from a breeder,
started his life with us by spending his first two days here under the
sofa, and has been a chicken ever since. Daffy would sometimes come to
visitors to check them out, and let himself get petted.)


Alan


Well, don't give up hope yet but he is a pretty elderly cat. None of
mine have made it over 17. It's really tough near end of life to know
what to do; it isn't like we can talk to them and find out their
wishes. You have a nice vet to come and pick up Daffy.

Hopefully there is something that can be treated but if not and he is
in pain, then it's time. Mostly I find that when people ask how to
tell if it is time, it's time. It's just so hard to be sure and so
easy to question whether we did it too soon or too late.

And some cats are just wusses. I have three at the moment. Nipsy, a
big longhaired boy, is absolutely petrified of any stranger or noise
and will just disappear. Marlo, a little girl, is somewhat skittish
but will sometimes turn up when strangers (or near-strangers) are
around. Espy, DSH boy, is afraid of nothing even when he should be.

I figure there are two types of cats, scaredy cats and curiosity
killed the cats. Nipsy is Scaredy Cat, Espy is Curiosity, and Marlo
can't make up her mind yet.

Good feelings sent for Daffy.