The other night, I said to the spouse, "I worry about Aubrey."
He said, "I don't. We already know she only has a few months."
Which...is true, really. "Worry" isn't exactly the right word anymore. There's not a lot of uncertainty as to what's going on, only how long it'll take and how bad it might be right now.
But I worry anyway. I've never lost a cat to illness. To cars, and other wild animals, and mysterious disappearances, and (in one horrible instance) washing machines, yes. But not illness. I don't know how this goes. I don't know how to tell when a creaky, cranky cat (who looked elderly and ill even when she was young and healthy) is in more pain than before, or too much pain.
She limps about at times, and huddles, and then bounds up onto counters and whines for running water. She's covered in ever-growing lumps, and still wants petting. She sulks and hides and then comes to a room I'm in to sulk and hide nearer to me. I don't know. How do you tell?
And a small, selfish part of me just wants to be done with the whole matter so that I can stop worrying about entirely.
Kitty is not well, and she is not going to get better. Not a lot to be done now but worry about timing.
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I don't know how to tell when a creaky, cranky cat (who looked elderly and ill even when she was young and healthy) is in more pain than before, or too much pain.
Yeah, it's just really really tough. I think one of the few things that helps is to have a good vet and be in close touch with them. Which actually we didn't have, because she'd hung on so long and her bloodwork was good enough her decline was very slow, so we weren't rushing her in and out of the ER all the time.
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