The Hardest Day - Chloé, mon chat bien-aimé

11 December 2020. A day I will now always remember because I made a huge decision: a decision between a life of pain and suffering and life without pain and eventual suffering.

Earlier this year, in June, we lost our indoor cat, Missy. It was a very hard blow especially to my sister, her main mama, because she had been with us for nearly 13 years. It left us with one cat, Chloe, who stays outdoor. He (named before he was sexed) was sort of a rescue, a domestic shorthair/moggie/puspin, with my other previous feral, Boq, catnapping him. You know, like a cat who brings home gifts to his family. Boq did that with Chloe in 2016. I didn't even know where he got this wee, four- to six-week-old kitten. But unlike Boq, Chloe never left our property for fear that he might end up like our other adopted ferals, just lost. He was very healthy despite not having any vaccinations and dewormed just twice. Until he got his common colds in August.

Chloe, a year or a few months ago

I have been in a no work, no pay situation since March due to the pandemic so I am financially dire. I had a refund of my ballet recital fee in October. That was only the time I could bring Chloe to his vet. On 29 October, he had a fever so his lovely vet asked me to check his blood chemistry. It was the day I learned that he had CKD - chronic kidney disease/kidney failure. He also had an infection. His vet explained to me that it would be lifetime treatment and prescribed a couple of meds he had to take. Even if I was financially dire, I accepted the challenge. I had a little "fundraiser"/donation drive just so I could buy his medicines and fund his second blood chemistry test.

Chloe, yoga cat, a few weeks after diagnosis

Chloe and I came back a couple of weeks later to have another blood test to find out that his creatinine and BUN (blood urea nitrogen or urea) doubled from the last time. His phosphorus also doubled even with his phosphorus binders. He still had an infection. We were to continue his meds and to come back after a month. We were back a couple of weeks later because he had a gingivitis flare up.

On the night of 7 December, Monday, he had vomited several times even without food and water. The night vet at the clinic walked me through it all so as I would not panic-bring Chloe. The next day, I brought him and his regular vet found mouth ulcers and prescribed meds for it. I also asked for supplements for one of the red flags in his blood panel - anaemia. By Wednesday night, he rejected his meds (vomited with saliva/mucous consistency), would only eat food without his meds, and by Thursday morning, he was admitted to the clinic and put in IV and painkillers. He was semi-dehydrated even if I syringe-fed him his pureed food and water. I expedited his next blood chemistry test, which was supposed to happen today, 14 December. When the vet called me with the results, his BUN, crea, and phosphorus even doubled and his AMY (amylase) went through the roof when I already managed to bring it down by 100+ in his second test. His liver was now affected. WBC was elevated and he wasn't producing enough RBC. His neutrophils had also gone up. His platelets at least went up and there was no more infection. That was the only time his vet suggested to put him to sleep.

I cried when I put down the phone. I didn't think I would but the prospect of making a huge decision for a little one - he was only four years old - terrified me. It shattered my heart to pieces. Both me and my mum are financially challenged and my sister had been just retrenched from work. But when I thought of Chloe, what it would be for him in the long term, I knew I had to make that decision. I called the clinic twice more that night, talked to the night vet for updates, and told him that if Chloe could no longer wait for me, then I release him and he could go back to Saint Francis of Assisi, the patron of all animals.

But he waited for me. When I went to the clinic to see him for the last time, his vet told me that he at least had slept because of the painkillers. She actually gave me the option to still take him home but in IV and painkillers possibly for the rest of his life. I couldn't do it to him. They got him out of the cage and placed him in one of the surgery rooms. I petted him and he silently meowed. I could tell he was fighting but he couldn't even get up. He was responsive but very weak. He was frail. I told the vet that when I touched him prior to being admitted, he was cold like he couldn't even generate enough body heat. I did think of the prospect of bringing him home again, in IV, but there was just too much pain for him. I cried for the umpteenth time and his vet understood. At around 10:45am, his vet announced that he joined his big sister (cousin), Missy, in the meadows of Saint Francis of Assisi along with all the others who danced across the rainbow bridge. I carried him to the same crematorium we brought Missy to in June.

Chloe, at the public viewing room of the crematorium

Chloe arrived home this morning, on what was supposed to be the day he was to have his third blood chemistry test. I will be bringing him tomorrow to church for the first day of [anticipated] Misa de Gallo to be blessed by the priest. I did the same for Missy the moment the churches opened for physical masses. He has an Immaculate Conception medallion, a souvenir from our village feast day/fiesta. The Feast of the Immaculate Conception was the last day I saw him very responsive and taking his meds, the day we learned of the ulcers. I still need to find a Saint Francis relic and hopefully the store at the big church have one.

Chloe's photobox urn, picture by Precious Paws Aftercare Services

Chloe in the chamber, picture by Precious Paws Aftercare Services

Chloe at the chapel, picture by Precious Paws Aftercare Services

Chloe's paw print, ashes, and fur sample (they usually take fur from the tail but I also requested to take some of his whiskers. He had incredibly long whiskers for a moggie/puspin.)

To this time and day, I still wonder what if. But again, I think of Chloe, a wordless creature. Even with a lot of money, I wouldn't want to see him suffer and prolong his pain, with needles poking him.

I am utterly grateful to his vets that they only suggested putting him to sleep until almost the last minute. They tried so hard to make him well and they cared so much for him. We all tried, even with the right meds and diet, but his CKD progressed too fast.

There will be no more meowing when someone arrives. No more meowing when there's packages being delivered. No more little being to watch the fireworks from the neighbouring village during the New Year. I will keep those happy memories. He's in a good place now. No more hunger and no more pain. I imagine the meadows as endless and he'll be able to play with all his heart. He is flying with his wings, one that even looks like a heart.

Now, I just need to dream of Chloe to let me know that he is happy with the others. :)