Our cat Coraline hadn’t been doing so well. She wasn’t showing much interest in food, didn’t have much energy. A trip to the vet didn’t give us many answers. There were diagnostic tests they could run, but even if we could afford those, we likely wouldn’t be able to afford the treatment the tests pointed to, nor would any of it have been very pleasant for Coraline. It’s the place in which no pet owner wants to find themselves. We decided the best thing to do was to try and make her as comfortable as possible and wait for the inevitable.
I didn’t go to work today. I started a medication to treat anxiety (long story) last night, and along with a complete inability to sleep, the medicine gave me a splitting headache. I was going to rough it, head into work with no sleep and in considerable pain. But then I saw how much worse Coraline had gotten overnight. She couldn’t stand, couldn’t even make it to her water dish. We called the vet and set up a time to bring her in. They suggested we take her to the Emergency Veterinary hospital at the University of Illinois. We wrapped her in a blanket and jumped in the car.
Coraline wouldn’t make it to the hospital. She stopped breathing about halfway there, wrapped in a blanket on Karyn’s lap in the passenger seat.
We brought her back home so our other cat Gabrielle could see for herself what had happened. This, I’d been told, can help with the transition.
It definitely hasn’t been easy for either me or my wife. Gabrielle seems to be doing okay, which is a relief. We knew this was coming, and we resolved to give Coraline the best possible life we could. I think we did okay, which is the only comfort I’m really able to find in all of this.