My cat's long battle with a mysterious auto-immune disease

Back in late February, my cat Mouse began acting funny. Everything
began with her voice getting weaker and squeakier, and some lethargy
and a decline in her appetite. Everything happened very gradually and
we deduced that she had a cold. We tried waiting it out, but when it
became apparent that she wasn't getting better, but worse, we took her
to the vet in early April. We waited so long because taking her to
the vet was always such a traumatizing experience for her that we
hated to put her through that. We were beginning to suspect that she
had diabetes, because she also had developed a greatly increased
thirst. Mouse was also to the point where she couldn't meow or purr
anymore, only make a very faint hissing sound. The vet tried to take
a blood sample, but she couldn't get it to work, so she had to pull
her out of her cage and carry her back there AGAIN to re-do it. They
had trouble with that sample too, and called us back a while later
after we went home to tell us that Mouse was so anemic that they
couldn't get a proper blood sample from her, her blood was too thin.
She said she was shocked that Mouse was still alive at that point. We
were given steroids that would gradually increase her blood count, but
we were told Mouse may have a kidney or liver problem along with the
anemia, and if she did (which they couldn't deduce until her
bloodcount was high enough for a test), the steroids would kill her.
But WITHOUT the steroids, we were told, she had no chance. We were in
a box. So we gave her the steroids and she gradually got better, and
the vet said that her blood count was finally high enough to do the
test. Luckily, no kidney or liver problems. We went home and she
slowly started to get worse again. We took her back to the vet and
they said that she was EVEN WORSE than the first time we brought her
in. She was flabbergasted, because she said the vast majority of cats
would have been DEAD with a HIGHER blood count than Mouse had at that
point. Apparently, she was one tough puss. So we had no other
choice but to begin a higher, mroe dangerous dose of steroids. Nasty
stuff. She developed a terrible infection in one eye, and then the
other. She went completely blind. Her pupils were gone. The eye
drops we gave her up until the very end did nothing for her. Her eyes
leaked constantly, and one of them crusted over completely until she
clawed the stuff off in the night, leaving her with no furr around her
eye. She began losing the furr on her face. She apparently had a
stroke or something and she began holding her neck crooked, and
walking crooked. We had to carry her everywhere and tap on her food
and water dishes to indicate to her where they were. One morning when
I got up she was sopping wet and I realized that she had fallen in her
water dish. We began shutting her in my mom's bedroom to sleep with
her at night, the floor covered with plastic and newspaper (she went
on the floor a lot). She'd sometimes bump into things and fall over.
We'd have to hold onto her while she was in the litter box because a
couple times she actually fell over on her side and hit the floor very
hard. She apparently began losing her mind, because everytime we'd
set her in the box, she'd start eating the litter and we;d have to
reach down and block her from doing it. We'd often carry her outside
and let her lie in the sun, or if it was hot, the shade. You could
tell she absolutely LOVED it, although the first few times afetr she
went blind she was scared. Sometimes my mom would sit in the recliner
and hold Mouse and rock her like a baby. She looked absolutely
terrible for a while, like a corpse pulled out of a dumpster, but she
was still our adorable little Mousie. You'd crack open her can or
open the door to go carry her inside and her head would pop up, and
she'd try to look around, doing that silent meow. Oddly enough, she
developed a ravenous appetite when she was at her sickest. She ate
like our dog. You couldn't feed her enough. But alhough her belly
grew, she remained emaciated, her spine and hips poking out. You'd
pet her and all you'd feel were bones. There were a couple times when
my parents were going to have her put her to sleep and I sobbed and
sobbed, but they backed out at the last minute, saying as long as she
wasn't apparently in any pain, we'd let her stay and die peacefully in
her own home. Me took her off the steroids at the end because they
weren't helping, they were only giving her terrible infections. On
September 27, my beloved dog unexpectedly had to be euthanized. He
was in terrible pain from airthritis and was walking around with his
tail tucked under him, quivering, and was even losing his mind. The
last time I saw him was when he was lieing trembling in the yard,
watching me go with a pained expression on his face. I was utterly
devestated. I had been expecting Mouse's death for a long time, but
not my dog's. The night of October 19, I was sitting in a recliner,
crying over the loss of my dog. I was a wreck. My dad tried to calm
me down by holding Mousie in my lap. I hadn't noticed that she really
was dieing the last few days. She just laid there, limp, like a
ragdoll. She got up for the last time to defecate all over the living
room rug. My mom took her to bed that night and said, "You might want
to pet her, I don't think she's going to make it through the night."
I was skeptical, as she had said that a few times before, but I got
down on my knees and stroked her. She seemed totally unaware of the
world around her. That morning I got out of bed only to discover that
my beloved cat that I'd had since I was 9 years old, had died in her
sleep. I saw her stiff corpse. I was in shcok. I had just had my
two childhood companions taken away from me within three weeks of each
other after a decade together. I didn't know how I could possibly
deal with one dieing. Now I had to deal with BOTH of them dieing. I
still miss them both every day. I dream about them almost every
night. I feel bad about those instances when I got mad at them and
said things I shouldn't have. And I feel bad about the times after my
dog's death when I'd come home, walk in the door, and sweet little
Mousie would stagger out, blind, to try and greet me. All I could do
was sulk that JACK wasn't there to greet us the way he always used
to. I feel bad about the time that I actually began feeling hostile
towards her, as though it were her fault that she wasn't getting
better. But those feelings quickly passed and I never treated her
badly. I did everything I could to make her last months on this
planet as comfortable as possible. She looked terrible, but she was
still my baby. I'd do anything to have her and my dog back. I tear
up as I sit her typing this. Has anyone ever heard of a cat going
through such a horrible mysterious illness, and then actually going
blind from the steroids? It's amazing that she was able to fight as
long as she did.

On Jan 4, 1:29*am, wrote:
* Back in late February, my cat Mouse began acting funny. *Everything
began with her voice getting weaker and squeakier, and some lethargy
and a decline in her appetite. *Everything happened very gradually and
we deduced that she had a cold. *We tried waiting it out, but when it
became apparent that she wasn't getting better, but worse, we took her
to the vet in early April. *We waited so long because taking her to
the vet was always such a traumatizing experience for her that we
hated to put her through that. *We were beginning to suspect that she
had diabetes, because she also had developed a greatly increased
thirst. *Mouse was also to the point where she couldn't meow or purr
anymore, only make a very faint hissing sound. *The vet tried to take
a blood sample, but she couldn't get it to work, so she had to pull
her out of her cage and carry her back there AGAIN to re-do it. *They
had trouble with that sample too, and called us back a while later
after we went home to tell us that Mouse was so anemic that they
couldn't get a proper blood sample from her, her blood was too thin.
She said she was shocked that Mouse was still alive at that point. *We
were given steroids that would gradually increase her blood count, but
we were told Mouse may have a kidney or liver problem along with the
anemia, and if she did (which they couldn't deduce until her
bloodcount was high enough for a test), the steroids would kill her.
But WITHOUT the steroids, we were told, she had no chance. *We were in
a box. *So we gave her the steroids and she gradually got better, and
the vet said that her blood count was finally high enough to do the
test. *Luckily, no kidney or liver problems. *We went home and she
slowly started to get worse again. *We took her back to the vet *and
they said that she was EVEN WORSE than the first time we brought her
in. *She was flabbergasted, because she said the vast majority of cats
would have been DEAD with a HIGHER blood count than Mouse had at that
point. *Apparently, she was one tough puss. *So we *had no other
choice but to begin a higher, mroe dangerous dose of steroids. *Nasty
stuff. *She developed a terrible infection in one eye, and then the
other. *She went completely blind. *Her pupils were gone. *The eye
drops we gave her up until the very end did nothing for her. *Her eyes
leaked constantly, and one of them crusted over completely until she
clawed the stuff off in the night, leaving her with no furr around her
eye. She began losing the furr on her face. *She apparently had a
stroke or something and she began holding her neck crooked, and
walking crooked. *We had to carry her everywhere and tap on her food
and water dishes to indicate to her where they were. *One morning when
I got up she was sopping wet and I realized that she had fallen in her
water dish. *We began shutting her in my mom's bedroom to sleep with
her at night, the floor covered with plastic and newspaper (she went
on the floor a lot). *She'd sometimes bump into things and fall over.
We'd have to hold onto her while she was in the litter box because a
couple times she actually fell over on her side and hit the floor very
hard. *She apparently began losing her mind, because everytime we'd
set her in the box, she'd start eating the litter and we;d have to
reach down and block her from doing it. *We'd often carry her outside
and let her lie in the sun, or if it was hot, the shade. *You could
tell she absolutely LOVED it, although the first few times afetr she
went blind she was scared. *Sometimes my mom would sit in the recliner
and hold Mouse and rock her like a baby. *She looked absolutely
terrible for a while, like a corpse pulled out of a dumpster, but she
was still our adorable little Mousie. *You'd crack open her can or
open the door to go carry her inside and her head would pop up, and
she'd try to look around, doing that silent meow. *Oddly enough, she
developed a ravenous appetite when she was at her sickest. *She ate
like our dog. *You couldn't feed her enough. *But alhough her belly
grew, she remained emaciated, her spine and hips poking out. *You'd
pet her and all you'd feel were bones. *There were a couple times when
my parents were going to have her put her to sleep and I sobbed and
sobbed, but they backed out at the last minute, saying as long as she
wasn't apparently in any pain, we'd let her stay and die peacefully in
her own home. *Me took her off the steroids at the end because they
weren't helping, they were only giving her terrible infections. *On
September 27, my beloved dog unexpectedly had to be euthanized. *He
was in terrible pain from airthritis and was walking around with his
tail tucked under him, quivering, and was even losing his mind. *The
last time I saw him was when he was lieing trembling in the yard,
watching me go with a pained expression on his face. I was utterly
devestated. *I had been expecting Mouse's death for a long time, but
not my dog's. *The night of October 19, I was sitting in a recliner,
crying over the loss of my dog. *I was a wreck. *My dad tried to calm
me down by holding Mousie in my lap. *I hadn't noticed that she really
was dieing the last few days. *She just laid there, limp, like a
ragdoll. *She got up for the last time to defecate all over the living
room rug. *My mom took her to bed that night and said, "You might want
to pet her, I don't think she's going to make it through the night."
I was skeptical, as she had said that a few times before, but I got
down on my knees and stroked her. *She seemed totally unaware of the
world around her. *That morning I got out of bed only to discover that
my beloved cat that I'd had since I was 9 years old, had died in her
sleep. *I saw her stiff corpse. *I was in shcok. *I had just had my
two childhood companions taken away from me within three weeks of each
other after a decade together. *I didn't know how I could possibly
deal with one dieing. *Now I had to deal with BOTH of them dieing. *I
still miss them both every day. *I dream about them almost every
night. *I feel bad about those instances when I got mad at them and
said things I shouldn't have. *And I feel bad about the times after my
dog's death when I'd come home, walk in the door, and sweet little
Mousie would stagger out, blind, to try and greet me. *All I could do
was sulk that JACK wasn't there to greet us the way he always used
to. *I feel bad about the time that I actually began feeling hostile
towards her, as though it were her fault that she wasn't getting
better. *But those feelings quickly passed and I never treated her
badly. *I did everything I could to make her last months on this
planet as comfortable as possible. *She looked terrible, but she was
still my baby. *I'd do anything to have her and my dog back. *I tear
up as I sit her typing this. *Has anyone ever heard of a cat going
through such a horrible mysterious illness, and then actually going
blind from the steroids? *It's amazing that she was able to fight as
long as she did.

By the way, it was apparently congestive heart failure that finally
took her. Her stomache had become very bloated, even after she
stopped eating so much again. But through the months there were so
many times when we thought she was going to die that day. One day in
particular stand out, when I was home alone and my cat was lieing on
the kicthen rug, on her side, struggling to breathe. I called my mom
and was sobbing, "She's dieing, what do I do?" That was a long time
before she actually died, and oddly enough ,that was the only time she
showed signs of having breathing difficulties. She spent that day
lieing on a blanket in the kicthen, unable to walk. She'd only lift
her head to get a drink or eat. We were stunned that she made it
through the day, let alone several weeks afterwards.

wrote in message
...
Back in late February, my cat Mouse began acting funny. Everything
began with her voice getting weaker and squeakier, and some lethargy
and a decline in her appetite. Everything happened very gradually and
we deduced that she had a cold. We tried waiting it out, but when it
became apparent that she wasn't getting better, but worse, we took her
to the vet in early April. We waited so long because taking her to
the vet was always such a traumatizing experience for her that we
hated to put her through that. We were beginning to suspect that she
had diabetes, because she also had developed a greatly increased
thirst. Mouse was also to the point where she couldn't meow or purr
anymore, only make a very faint hissing sound. The vet tried to take
a blood sample, but she couldn't get it to work, so she had to pull
her out of her cage and carry her back there AGAIN to re-do it. They
had trouble with that sample too, and called us back a while later
after we went home to tell us that Mouse was so anemic that they
couldn't get a proper blood sample from her, her blood was too thin.
She said she was shocked that Mouse was still alive at that point. We
were given steroids that would gradually increase her blood count, but
we were told Mouse may have a kidney or liver problem along with the
anemia, and if she did (which they couldn't deduce until her
bloodcount was high enough for a test), the steroids would kill her.
But WITHOUT the steroids, we were told, she had no chance. We were in
a box. So we gave her the steroids and she gradually got better, and
the vet said that her blood count was finally high enough to do the
test. Luckily, no kidney or liver problems. We went home and she
slowly started to get worse again. We took her back to the vet and
they said that she was EVEN WORSE than the first time we brought her
in. She was flabbergasted, because she said the vast majority of cats
would have been DEAD with a HIGHER blood count than Mouse had at that
point. Apparently, she was one tough puss. So we had no other
choice but to begin a higher, mroe dangerous dose of steroids. Nasty
stuff. She developed a terrible infection in one eye, and then the
other. She went completely blind. Her pupils were gone. The eye
drops we gave her up until the very end did nothing for her. Her eyes
leaked constantly, and one of them crusted over completely until she
clawed the stuff off in the night, leaving her with no furr around her
eye. She began losing the furr on her face. She apparently had a
stroke or something and she began holding her neck crooked, and
walking crooked. We had to carry her everywhere and tap on her food
and water dishes to indicate to her where they were. One morning when
I got up she was sopping wet and I realized that she had fallen in her
water dish. We began shutting her in my mom's bedroom to sleep with
her at night, the floor covered with plastic and newspaper (she went
on the floor a lot). She'd sometimes bump into things and fall over.
We'd have to hold onto her while she was in the litter box because a
couple times she actually fell over on her side and hit the floor very
hard. She apparently began losing her mind, because everytime we'd
set her in the box, she'd start eating the litter and we;d have to
reach down and block her from doing it. We'd often carry her outside
and let her lie in the sun, or if it was hot, the shade. You could
tell she absolutely LOVED it, although the first few times afetr she
went blind she was scared. Sometimes my mom would sit in the recliner
and hold Mouse and rock her like a baby. She looked absolutely
terrible for a while, like a corpse pulled out of a dumpster, but she
was still our adorable little Mousie. You'd crack open her can or
open the door to go carry her inside and her head would pop up, and
she'd try to look around, doing that silent meow. Oddly enough, she
developed a ravenous appetite when she was at her sickest. She ate
like our dog. You couldn't feed her enough. But alhough her belly
grew, she remained emaciated, her spine and hips poking out. You'd
pet her and all you'd feel were bones. There were a couple times when
my parents were going to have her put her to sleep and I sobbed and
sobbed, but they backed out at the last minute, saying as long as she
wasn't apparently in any pain, we'd let her stay and die peacefully in
her own home. Me took her off the steroids at the end because they
weren't helping, they were only giving her terrible infections. On
September 27, my beloved dog unexpectedly had to be euthanized. He
was in terrible pain from airthritis and was walking around with his
tail tucked under him, quivering, and was even losing his mind. The
last time I saw him was when he was lieing trembling in the yard,
watching me go with a pained expression on his face. I was utterly
devestated. I had been expecting Mouse's death for a long time, but
not my dog's. The night of October 19, I was sitting in a recliner,
crying over the loss of my dog. I was a wreck. My dad tried to calm
me down by holding Mousie in my lap. I hadn't noticed that she really
was dieing the last few days. She just laid there, limp, like a
ragdoll. She got up for the last time to defecate all over the living
room rug. My mom took her to bed that night and said, "You might want
to pet her, I don't think she's going to make it through the night."
I was skeptical, as she had said that a few times before, but I got
down on my knees and stroked her. She seemed totally unaware of the
world around her. That morning I got out of bed only to discover that
my beloved cat that I'd had since I was 9 years old, had died in her
sleep. I saw her stiff corpse. I was in shcok. I had just had my
two childhood companions taken away from me within three weeks of each
other after a decade together. I didn't know how I could possibly
deal with one dieing. Now I had to deal with BOTH of them dieing. I
still miss them both every day. I dream about them almost every
night. I feel bad about those instances when I got mad at them and
said things I shouldn't have. And I feel bad about the times after my
dog's death when I'd come home, walk in the door, and sweet little
Mousie would stagger out, blind, to try and greet me. All I could do
was sulk that JACK wasn't there to greet us the way he always used
to. I feel bad about the time that I actually began feeling hostile
towards her, as though it were her fault that she wasn't getting
better. But those feelings quickly passed and I never treated her
badly. I did everything I could to make her last months on this
planet as comfortable as possible. She looked terrible, but she was
still my baby. I'd do anything to have her and my dog back. I tear
up as I sit her typing this. Has anyone ever heard of a cat going
through such a horrible mysterious illness, and then actually going
blind from the steroids? It's amazing that she was able to fight as
long as she did.

This has got to be a troll.

You waited months to get the cat the care it needed, then let it slowly die
in
agony, instead of having it humanely euthanized?

Nah, I'm not biting.



--
Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com

wrote
By the way, it was apparently congestive heart failure that finally
took her. Her stomache had become very bloated, even after she
stopped eating so much again. But through the months there were so
many times when we thought she was going to die that day. One day in
particular stand out, when I was home alone and my cat was lieing on
the kicthen rug, on her side, struggling to breathe. I called my mom
and was sobbing, "She's dieing, what do I do?" That was a long time
before she actually died, and oddly enough ,that was the only time she
showed signs of having breathing difficulties. She spent that day
lieing on a blanket in the kicthen, unable to walk. She'd only lift
her head to get a drink or eat. We were stunned that she made it
through the day, let alone several weeks afterwards.

If this is true, I really hope that you linger even longer, suffer even more
when you die. I think that would be really good.

Cheers!



--
Posted via a free Usenet account from http://www.teranews.com

On Fri, 04 Jan 2008 09:29:07 -0500, cybercat wrote:


wrote in message
...
Back in late February, my cat Mouse began acting funny. Everything
began with her voice getting weaker and squeakier, and some lethargy and
a decline in her appetite. Everything happened very gradually and we
deduced that she had a cold. We tried waiting it out, but when it
became apparent that she wasn't getting better, but worse, we took her
to the vet in early April. We waited so long because taking her to the
vet was always such a traumatizing experience for her that we hated to
put her through that. We were beginning to suspect that she had
diabetes, because she also had developed a greatly increased thirst.
Mouse was also to the point where she couldn't meow or purr anymore,
only make a very faint hissing sound. The vet tried to take a blood
sample, but she couldn't get it to work, so she had to pull her out of
her cage and carry her back there AGAIN to re-do it. They had trouble
with that sample too, and called us back a while later after we went
home to tell us that Mouse was so anemic that they couldn't get a proper
blood sample from her, her blood was too thin. She said she was shocked
that Mouse was still alive at that point. We were given steroids that
would gradually increase her blood count, but we were told Mouse may
have a kidney or liver problem along with the anemia, and if she did
(which they couldn't deduce until her bloodcount was high enough for a
test), the steroids would kill her. But WITHOUT the steroids, we were
told, she had no chance. We were in a box. So we gave her the steroids
and she gradually got better, and the vet said that her blood count was
finally high enough to do the test. Luckily, no kidney or liver
problems. We went home and she slowly started to get worse again. We
took her back to the vet and they said that she was EVEN WORSE than the
first time we brought her in. She was flabbergasted, because she said
the vast majority of cats would have been DEAD with a HIGHER blood count
than Mouse had at that point. Apparently, she was one tough puss. So
we had no other choice but to begin a higher, mroe dangerous dose of
steroids. Nasty stuff. She developed a terrible infection in one eye,
and then the other. She went completely blind. Her pupils were gone.
The eye drops we gave her up until the very end did nothing for her.
Her eyes leaked constantly, and one of them crusted over completely
until she clawed the stuff off in the night, leaving her with no furr
around her eye. She began losing the furr on her face. She apparently
had a stroke or something and she began holding her neck crooked, and
walking crooked. We had to carry her everywhere and tap on her food and
water dishes to indicate to her where they were. One morning when I got
up she was sopping wet and I realized that she had fallen in her water
dish. We began shutting her in my mom's bedroom to sleep with her at
night, the floor covered with plastic and newspaper (she went on the
floor a lot). She'd sometimes bump into things and fall over. We'd have
to hold onto her while she was in the litter box because a couple times
she actually fell over on her side and hit the floor very hard. She
apparently began losing her mind, because everytime we'd set her in the
box, she'd start eating the litter and we;d have to reach down and block
her from doing it. We'd often carry her outside and let her lie in the
sun, or if it was hot, the shade. You could tell she absolutely LOVED
it, although the first few times afetr she went blind she was scared.
Sometimes my mom would sit in the recliner and hold Mouse and rock her
like a baby. She looked absolutely terrible for a while, like a corpse
pulled out of a dumpster, but she was still our adorable little Mousie.
You'd crack open her can or open the door to go carry her inside and her
head would pop up, and she'd try to look around, doing that silent meow.
Oddly enough, she developed a ravenous appetite when she was at her
sickest. She ate like our dog. You couldn't feed her enough. But
alhough her belly grew, she remained emaciated, her spine and hips
poking out. You'd pet her and all you'd feel were bones. There were a
couple times when my parents were going to have her put her to sleep and
I sobbed and sobbed, but they backed out at the last minute, saying as
long as she wasn't apparently in any pain, we'd let her stay and die
peacefully in her own home. Me took her off the steroids at the end
because they weren't helping, they were only giving her terrible
infections. On September 27, my beloved dog unexpectedly had to be
euthanized. He was in terrible pain from airthritis and was walking
around with his tail tucked under him, quivering, and was even losing
his mind. The last time I saw him was when he was lieing trembling in
the yard, watching me go with a pained expression on his face. I was
utterly devestated. I had been expecting Mouse's death for a long time,
but not my dog's. The night of October 19, I was sitting in a recliner,
crying over the loss of my dog. I was a wreck. My dad tried to calm me
down by holding Mousie in my lap. I hadn't noticed that she really was
dieing the last few days. She just laid there, limp, like a ragdoll.
She got up for the last time to defecate all over the living room rug.
My mom took her to bed that night and said, "You might want to pet her,
I don't think she's going to make it through the night." I was
skeptical, as she had said that a few times before, but I got down on my
knees and stroked her. She seemed totally unaware of the world around
her. That morning I got out of bed only to discover that my beloved cat
that I'd had since I was 9 years old, had died in her sleep. I saw her
stiff corpse. I was in shcok. I had just had my two childhood
companions taken away from me within three weeks of each other after a
decade together. I didn't know how I could possibly deal with one
dieing. Now I had to deal with BOTH of them dieing. I still miss them
both every day. I dream about them almost every night. I feel bad
about those instances when I got mad at them and said things I shouldn't
have. And I feel bad about the times after my dog's death when I'd come
home, walk in the door, and sweet little Mousie would stagger out,
blind, to try and greet me. All I could do was sulk that JACK wasn't
there to greet us the way he always used to. I feel bad about the time
that I actually began feeling hostile towards her, as though it were her
fault that she wasn't getting better. But those feelings quickly passed
and I never treated her badly. I did everything I could to make her
last months on this planet as comfortable as possible. She looked
terrible, but she was still my baby. I'd do anything to have her and my
dog back. I tear up as I sit her typing this. Has anyone ever heard of
a cat going through such a horrible mysterious illness, and then
actually going blind from the steroids? It's amazing that she was able
to fight as long as she did.

This has got to be a troll.

You waited months to get the cat the care it needed, then let it slowly
die in
agony, instead of having it humanely euthanized?

Nah, I'm not biting.


I,too, smelled a troll and did not reply. Pathetic, aren't they? MLB

In article ,
says...

wrote
By the way, it was apparently congestive heart failure that finally
took her. Her stomache had become very bloated, even after she
stopped eating so much again. But through the months there were so
many times when we thought she was going to die that day. One day in
particular stand out, when I was home alone and my cat was lieing on
the kicthen rug, on her side, struggling to breathe. I called my mom
and was sobbing, "She's dieing, what do I do?" That was a long time
before she actually died, and oddly enough ,that was the only time she
showed signs of having breathing difficulties. She spent that day
lieing on a blanket in the kicthen, unable to walk. She'd only lift
her head to get a drink or eat. We were stunned that she made it
through the day, let alone several weeks afterwards.

If this is true, I really hope that you linger even longer, suffer even more
when you die. I think that would be really good.

Cheers!





Yeah, I've only had one cat die on me but from the time she started
exhibiting outward signs to the time of death was less than a month.
When other cats started showing the same signs I knew it was time and
had them euthanized.

On Jan 4, 8:25*pm, T wrote:
In article ,
says...







wrote
*By the way, it was apparently congestive heart failure that finally
took her. *Her stomache had become very bloated, even after she
stopped eating so much again. *But through the months there were so
many times when we thought she was going to die that day. *One day in
particular stand out, when I was home alone and my cat was lieing on
the kicthen rug, on her side, struggling to breathe. *I called my mom
and was sobbing, "She's dieing, what do I do?" *That was a long time
before she actually died, and oddly enough ,that was the only time she
showed signs of having breathing difficulties. *She spent that day
lieing on a blanket in the kicthen, unable to walk. *She'd only lift
her head to get a drink or eat. *We were stunned that she made it
through the day, let alone several weeks afterwards.

If this is true, I really hope that you linger even longer, suffer even more
when you die. I think that would be really good.

Cheers!



You guys have got a lot of nerve talking to me like that. FIRST of
all, it wasn't up to me, it was up to my parents. You think I take
pleasure out of animals suffering?? We all watched her extremely
close, and at the first sign of pain, we would not have *HESITATED* to
have her euthanized. My parents made the judgement that she while
extremely weak, she was not in pain, based on everything the vet told
us and watching her everyday. My God, when my dog showed us that he
was in pain that medication could no longer fix, we took his ass right
IN, no questions. We weren't going to watch him sit around in agony,
and we never would have allowed Mouse to either. I'm still struggling
with this EVERY SINGLE DAY, I try to talk about it on here, and all I
get are people calling me a troll and accusing me of torturing an
animal?? We all loved that cat to death, and my parents did what they
thought was right for her, letting her drift off at home, so long as
she wasn't in pain. I hope to GOD that she wasn't in pain. I
wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew we made the wrong
descision. Don't you dare try and tell me that I didn't love her, and
that we weren't AGONIZING over what would be best for her, and over
her comfort every single day. For months, there was a chance that she
would recover, according to the vet. She would get a lot better, and
our hopes would soar, and then she'd get bad again, and then she'd get
better again. We tried to help her heal in other ways, not just the
medicine, playing the music that she always loved to listen to,
letting her lie outside, which she loved, etc. As for waiting so long
to get her to a vet in the first place, I always told my parents that
they should bring her in, but they stalled because going there
*TERRIFIED* her. She would yowl, rip most of her claws off trying to
get out of her carrier, it was hard for us to watch her go through
that. But like I said, I WANTED to bring her in, my parents waited to
see if she would get better. You guys have helped matters a lot with
your hateful comments. I feel a lot better about the whole damn thing
now. Thanks.

wrote:
In article ,
says...
[quoted text clipped - 17 lines]

Cheers!

You guys have got a lot of nerve talking to me like that. FIRST of
all, it wasn't up to me, it was up to my parents. You think I take
pleasure out of animals suffering?? We all watched her extremely
close, and at the first sign of pain, we would not have *HESITATED* to
have her euthanized. My parents made the judgement that she while
extremely weak, she was not in pain, based on everything the vet told
us and watching her everyday. My God, when my dog showed us that he
was in pain that medication could no longer fix, we took his ass right
IN, no questions. We weren't going to watch him sit around in agony,
and we never would have allowed Mouse to either. I'm still struggling
with this EVERY SINGLE DAY, I try to talk about it on here, and all I
get are people calling me a troll and accusing me of torturing an
animal?? We all loved that cat to death, and my parents did what they
thought was right for her, letting her drift off at home, so long as
she wasn't in pain. I hope to GOD that she wasn't in pain. I
wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew we made the wrong
descision. Don't you dare try and tell me that I didn't love her, and
that we weren't AGONIZING over what would be best for her, and over
her comfort every single day. For months, there was a chance that she
would recover, according to the vet. She would get a lot better, and
our hopes would soar, and then she'd get bad again, and then she'd get
better again. We tried to help her heal in other ways, not just the
medicine, playing the music that she always loved to listen to,
letting her lie outside, which she loved, etc. As for waiting so long
to get her to a vet in the first place, I always told my parents that
they should bring her in, but they stalled because going there
*TERRIFIED* her. She would yowl, rip most of her claws off trying to
get out of her carrier, it was hard for us to watch her go through
that. But like I said, I WANTED to bring her in, my parents waited to
see if she would get better. You guys have helped matters a lot with
your hateful comments. I feel a lot better about the whole damn thing
now. Thanks.

You're not a troll, but you're not a kid either & we all have a duty to do
what's right & humane for our pets when their health & quality of life fails
& they can no longer be helped. According to some of your older posts (to
different groups), you've got to be about 20 now & that's old enough to have
taken control & responsibility for your beloved Mouse. You came here last
April looking for help about this cat & most everyone suggested getting her
to a second vet for another opinion & perhaps different treatment. Then last
August you came back again saying "Can't stand to see her like this anymore.
We're praying for a miracle" & everyone was sympathetic, but said it sounded
like it was time to let her go - have her put to sleep in peace. Yes, it's
very difficult but most all pet owners have to face this sooner or later &
it's especially hard to judge because cats usually don't show pain, but it's
better to be pro-active than to let our pets suffer unnecessarily. Your cat
managed to endure another 2 months before dying, but if you re-read what you
wrote yesterday morning, she was in obviously terrible shape & that's what
people here are responding to. Please learn from this for any future pets,
whether your's or your parent's.
M.

--
Message posted via CatKB.com
http://www.catkb.com/Uwe/Forums.aspx...ealth/200801/1

On Jan 5, 4:32*am, wrote:
On Jan 4, 8:25*pm, T wrote:





In article ,
says...

wrote
*By the way, it was apparently congestive heart failure that finally
took her. *Her stomache had become very bloated, even after she
stopped eating so much again. *But through the months there were so
many times when we thought she was going to die that day. *One day in
particular stand out, when I was home alone and my cat was lieing on
the kicthen rug, on her side, struggling to breathe. *I called my mom
and was sobbing, "She's dieing, what do I do?" *That was a long time
before she actually died, and oddly enough ,that was the only time she
showed signs of having breathing difficulties. *She spent that day
lieing on a blanket in the kicthen, unable to walk. *She'd only lift
her head to get a drink or eat. *We were stunned that she made it
through the day, let alone several weeks afterwards.

If this is true, I really hope that you linger even longer, suffer even more
when you die. I think that would be really good.

Cheers!

*You guys have got a lot of nerve talking to me like that. *FIRST of
all, it wasn't up to me, it was up to my parents. *You think I take
pleasure out of animals suffering?? *We all watched her extremely
close, and at the first sign of pain, we would not have *HESITATED* to
have her euthanized. *My parents made the judgement that she while
extremely weak, she was not in pain, based on everything the vet told
us and watching her everyday. *My God, when my dog showed us that he
was in pain that medication could no longer fix, we took his ass right
IN, no questions. *We weren't going to watch him sit around in agony,
and we never would have allowed Mouse to either. *I'm still struggling
with this EVERY SINGLE DAY, I try to talk about it on here, and all I
get are people calling me a troll and accusing me of torturing an
animal?? *We all loved that cat to death, and my parents did what they
thought was right for her, letting her drift off at home, so long as
she wasn't in pain. *I hope to GOD that she wasn't in pain. *I
wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew we made the wrong
descision. *Don't you dare try and tell me that I didn't love her, and
that we weren't AGONIZING over what would be best for her, and over
her comfort every single day. *For months, there was a chance that she
would recover, according to the vet. *She would get a lot better, and
our hopes would soar, and then she'd get bad again, and then she'd get
better again. *We tried to help her heal in other ways, not just the
medicine, playing the music that she always loved to listen to,
letting her lie outside, which she loved, etc. *As for waiting so long
to get her to a vet in the first place, I always told my parents that
they should bring her in, but they stalled because going there
*TERRIFIED* her. *She would yowl, rip most of her claws off trying to
get out of her carrier, it was hard for us to watch her go through
that. *But like I said, I WANTED to bring her in, my parents waited to
see if she would get better. *You guys have helped matters a lot with
your hateful comments. *I feel a lot better about the whole damn thing
now. *Thanks.- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

On Aug 19 2007, 5:02 am, wrote:
I posted here about my cat several months ago, back when she was
first diagnosed. In short, she has some sort of auto immune disease
or maythat started to come on in February. When it started we thought
it was a cold. It began with voice loss, lethargy, and a severe
thirst. She was severely anemic and killing her blood cells. She was
put on steroids but they completely surpress her immune system, making
her extremely vulnerable to infections. She got a couple of urinary
track infections where we had her peeing and dribbling blood on the
floor. She's infected eyes for awhile now. The vet gave us some eye
drops to see if it cleared it up, but it's not doing anything. We
think that one of her eyes has now been destroyed, and if a miracle
ever does happen, it will have to be removed. You wouldn't believe how
she looks. Her right eye is disgusting. It's just a solid brown mass
of goo that constantly drips down her face. She's somewhat emaciated
and she has dried medicine and food stuck on her face (it's impossible
to keep her clean) and on parts of her body. Basically, she looks like
a corpse that someone pulled out of a dumpster. At one point I
actually looked at her and burst into tears. However, her appetite is
great (but she's still emaciated, which makes me think cancer...) and
despite not being able to see worth a darn, she's getting around quite
well. She hasn't begun staggering again, so that's good. We took her
off the steroids a while ago because it's so terrible on the body and
causes infection after infection. We THOUGHT she was recovering but
the other morning I put her in her box (she sometimes has to be
carried because she can't see well) and she passed out and litter was
plastered all over the side of her face, mixed with the goo from her
eye. I was horrified that she had begun fainting again, a sign that
her blood count is plummeting again. I was home alone for awhile later
that day and she kept passing out. At one point she was lieing on the
kitchen rub, making sounds like she was actually struggling to
breathe. I lost it and called my mom on her cell and started crying,
saying she was dieing on me. I layed out a blanket for her and put on
her favorite music (that cat has a thing for Josh Groban, Il Divo, and
the like). Since then (the other day) she's stopped fainting and her
breathing (thank God) seems perfectly normal. But at this point the
vet says it's the end of the road, her chance of making a recovery are
slim to none. The last thing we want is to see her suffer (and trust
me, it's heart-breaking to see how disgusting she looks right now),
but since her appetite is good and she's stopped fainting, we're just
waiting right now. We know the time has probably come to euthanize
her, but it's just too damn hard. These next couple of days, we're
just praying for a miracle, biding time. She's been a beloved member
of the family since I was 9 years old (I'm now 20). If there was
something that could be done at this point, money would be no object,
but it looks like it's the end of the road. The vet doesn't see any
hope. It's just been so cruel. One minute you think she's getting
better, and then she crashes again.

This is the reason why everyone is a little bit ticked off.
It is most unlike me not to listen sympathetically, because it is in
my nature to believe anything that people tell me, unless proved
otherwise.

I extended my sympathies then, & also now, but it would appear that
either you, or your parents were not listening @ the time. Your cat
did go through hell for a further few months. I would also like to
point out that Marrii did try to tell you in a very polite manner,
exactly what & why others think you are a troll.
You have no idea how many trolls we do get, professing that their cat
is near death, then suddenly the owner finds a reason to not to need
the advice we give, yet they come back a few months later to tell us
the same thing; what would you assume?

I have no doubt that you did love your cat. Unfortunately, you didn't
love her enough to give her the greatest gift your can give a much
loved cat- The freedom to cross the Rainbow Bridge when she needed
to.. by withholding that gift, your cat suffered without doubt. That
is where the anger is coming from. The difference between a cat owner
& a cat slave, is that you would do anything to stop her suffering. I
wish you no ill, but I do hope that you learn from this mistake. Rest
assured, we all make mistakes & the only thing that is important here
is exactly the same as Marri said- That you learn from it....

Good Luck,
Sheelagh "o"

On Jan 6, 2:42*pm, "Sheelagh\"o\"" wrote:
On Jan 5, 4:32*am, wrote:





On Jan 4, 8:25*pm, T wrote:

In article ,
says...

wrote
*By the way, it was apparently congestive heart failure that finally
took her. *Her stomache had become very bloated, even after she
stopped eating so much again. *But through the months there were so
many times when we thought she was going to die that day. *One day in
particular stand out, when I was home alone and my cat was lieing on
the kicthen rug, on her side, struggling to breathe. *I called my mom
and was sobbing, "She's dieing, what do I do?" *That was a long time
before she actually died, and oddly enough ,that was the only time she
showed signs of having breathing difficulties. *She spent that day
lieing on a blanket in the kicthen, unable to walk. *She'd only lift
her head to get a drink or eat. *We were stunned that she made it
through the day, let alone several weeks afterwards.

If this is true, I really hope that you linger even longer, suffer even more
when you die. I think that would be really good.

Cheers!

*You guys have got a lot of nerve talking to me like that. *FIRST of
all, it wasn't up to me, it was up to my parents. *You think I take
pleasure out of animals suffering?? *We all watched her extremely
close, and at the first sign of pain, we would not have *HESITATED* to
have her euthanized. *My parents made the judgement that she while
extremely weak, she was not in pain, based on everything the vet told
us and watching her everyday. *My God, when my dog showed us that he
was in pain that medication could no longer fix, we took his ass right
IN, no questions. *We weren't going to watch him sit around in agony,
and we never would have allowed Mouse to either. *I'm still struggling
with this EVERY SINGLE DAY, I try to talk about it on here, and all I
get are people calling me a troll and accusing me of torturing an
animal?? *We all loved that cat to death, and my parents did what they
thought was right for her, letting her drift off at home, so long as
she wasn't in pain. *I hope to GOD that she wasn't in pain. *I
wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew we made the wrong
descision. *Don't you dare try and tell me that I didn't love her, and
that we weren't AGONIZING over what would be best for her, and over
her comfort every single day. *For months, there was a chance that she
would recover, according to the vet. *She would get a lot better, and
our hopes would soar, and then she'd get bad again, and then she'd get
better again. *We tried to help her heal in other ways, not just the
medicine, playing the music that she always loved to listen to,
letting her lie outside, which she loved, etc. *As for waiting so long
to get her to a vet in the first place, I always told my parents that
they should bring her in, but they stalled because going there
*TERRIFIED* her. *She would yowl, rip most of her claws off trying to
get out of her carrier, it was hard for us to watch her go through
that. *But like I said, I WANTED to bring her in, my parents waited to
see if she would get better. *You guys have helped matters a lot with
your hateful comments. *I feel a lot better about the whole damn thing
now. *Thanks.- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

On Aug 19 2007, 5:02 am, wrote:





* I posted here about my cat several months ago, back when she was
first diagnosed. * In short, she has some sort of auto immune disease
or maythat started to come on in February. *When it started we thought
it was a cold. *It began with voice loss, lethargy, and a severe
thirst. *She was severely anemic and killing her blood cells. She was
put on steroids but they completely surpress her immune system, making
her extremely vulnerable to infections. She got a couple of urinary
track infections where we had her peeing and dribbling blood on the
floor. *She's infected eyes for awhile now. The vet gave us some eye
drops to see if it cleared it up, but it's not doing anything. We
think that one of her eyes has now been destroyed, and if a miracle
ever does happen, it will have to be removed. You wouldn't believe how
she looks. Her right eye is disgusting. It's just a solid brown mass
of goo that constantly drips down her face. She's somewhat emaciated
and she has dried medicine and food stuck on her face (it's impossible
to keep her clean) and on parts of her body. Basically, she looks like
a corpse that someone pulled out of a dumpster. *At one point I
actually looked at her and burst into tears. *However, her appetite is
great (but she's still emaciated, which makes me think cancer...) and
despite not being able to see worth a darn, she's getting around quite
well. She hasn't begun staggering again, so that's good. We took her
off the steroids a while ago because it's so terrible on the body and
causes infection after infection. We THOUGHT she was recovering but
the other morning I put her in her box (she sometimes has to be
carried because she can't see well) and she passed out and litter was
plastered all over the side of her face, mixed with the goo from her
eye. I was horrified that she had begun fainting again, a sign that
her blood count is plummeting again. I was home alone for awhile later
that day and she kept passing out. At one point she was lieing on the
kitchen rub, making sounds like she was actually struggling to
breathe. I lost it and called my mom on her cell and started crying,
saying she was dieing on me. I layed out a blanket for her and put on
her favorite music (that cat has a thing for Josh Groban, Il Divo, and
the like). Since then (the other day) she's stopped fainting and her
breathing (thank God) seems perfectly normal. But at this point the
vet says it's the end of the road, her chance of making a recovery are
slim to none. The last thing we want is to see her suffer (and trust
me, it's heart-breaking to see how disgusting she looks right now),
but since her appetite is good and she's stopped fainting, we're just
waiting right now. We know the time has probably come to euthanize
her, but it's just too damn hard. These next couple of days, we're
just praying for a miracle, biding time. She's been a beloved member
of the family since I was 9 years old (I'm now 20). If there was
something that could be done at this point, money would be no object,
but it looks like it's the end of the road. The vet doesn't see any
hope. *It's just been so cruel. *One minute you think she's getting
better, and then she crashes again.

This is the reason why everyone is a little bit ticked off.
It is most unlike me not to listen sympathetically, because it is in
my nature to believe anything that people tell me, unless proved
otherwise.

I extended my sympathies then, & also now, but it would appear that
either you, or your parents were not listening @ the time. Your cat
did go through hell for a further few months. I would also like to
point out that Marrii did try to tell you in a very polite manner,
exactly what & why others think you are a troll.
You have no idea how many trolls we do get, professing that their cat
is near death, then suddenly the owner finds a reason to not to need
the advice we give, yet they come back a few months later to tell us
the same thing; what would you assume?

I have no doubt that you did love your cat. Unfortunately, you didn't
love her enough to give her the greatest gift your can give a much
loved cat- The freedom to cross the Rainbow Bridge when she needed
to.. by withholding that gift, your cat suffered without doubt. That
is where the anger is coming from. The difference between a cat owner
& *a cat slave, is that you would do anything to stop her suffering. I
wish you no ill, but I do hope that you learn from this mistake. Rest
assured, we all make mistakes & the only thing that is important here
is exactly the same as Marri said- That you learn from it....

Good Luck,
Sheelagh "o"- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

Well, my parents remain firm that we did the right thing, so I'm
trusting them. They are very pro-euthanasia (even with people), and
if they had gotten the slightest indication that that cat was in any
kind of pain, they would have taken her in, no questions asked. They
brought BOTH of our former dogs to be euthanized without hesitation
when they needed it. At one point, when I was so mad I wasn't
thinking clearly at all, I got upset with my dad for bringing my dog
in. He got pretty upset with me. His response? "That dog was in
AGONY, and he was too good a friend to let him suffer like that. If
you thought I was going to sit back and let him live like that, then
you're CRAZY." My mom? "We had to help him, it was our
responsibility. He's not suffering any more." They're smart people,
and they're good people, and I'm going to have to believe that they
made the right descision with Mouse. Obviously you would have had to
have been here and lived with her to understand the situation. It
just looks terrible on "paper". I'm sorry I ever brought this matter
up, it's only further upset me. But thanks to those who at least
responded in a civil manner.