Today is a HARD day for me. I just woke up and I am immediately overcome with tears and grief. Of course, I miss my Mo everyday, but today has been 2 months exactly that I had to let him go. I still feel guilty that I didn't try hard enough, or encourage the vet to. I have trouble reading anything about feline kidney failure, because I'm afraid that if I read something that I could have done or should have done, I'll go to pieces. It has been too late to do the research that I should have done when my vet gave me the diagnosis. I wasn't home when I called her to check in on him that Tuesday, I had been out with my friend, doing errands and trying to hope that my call to the vet at 1:00 p.m. would be one of relief and improvement of Cosmo's condition, but it didn't turn out that way. I was around the corner from their office when Dr. Mary told me that his kidneys were failing and that all the fluids and medications would more than likely not help enough to bring him back, and I trusted her, I still trust her. My mind returns to that day often. I went right down to their office 20 minutes after that call so I could spend my last moments with him and he could be released from his pain and discomfort. When they brought him to me, his catheter still in, he was so lethargic, and they said he had been that way since I left him there the morning before. He started purring when he saw me and felt my touch, and I remain convinced that he thought I would be bringing him home.
When the 2 Doctors came in, they told me that that was the most life they had seen in him, and I wanted to say, "Let's try the fluids and drugs one more day," but something stopped me. Fear, Cosmo's pain, the Truth of what was happening, I don't know, but I didn't say anything. Some of you may recall from an earlier post of mine that they had to administer 2 doses, because he hadn't let go after the first one, and Dr. Mary said, "He has a strong heart." I fell to the floor sobbing. I wanted to stop them at that point, but he already had a dose in him, and I knew it was too late and cruel for that, so they continued with the second dose and he passed in Peace. To this day, I don't know why she said that in front of me, it made me feel like I was making a terrible mistake in judgement, and I wonder if I had been home when I called the vet, would I have taken some time to do research before I made my choice. At the time, I know I didn't want him to linger or suffer, and I wanted him out of that place, so I did what they suggested. Still though, I wonder, as if that helps now. I know I let him go while he still looked beautiful and had dignity, but my selfishness makes me punish myself. I LOVED and LOVE him so much, and I thought he would survive more than 10 years, even though he had previous conditions of seizures and urinary infections (no crystals, ever), but all of that was being handled with medication daily. He always had a way of showing me when he was about to be sick, like licking the water from the bowl off his feet instead of out of the bowl whenever he was getting close to a seizure, and I would give him his Valium and Prednisone, and we would prevent one. Or when he would urinate in our white bathtub to show me he was starting an infection, and I would always take that urine sample to the vet to check for crystals and the like, and get him his Baytril. Incidents like this happened frequently, and I AM relieved he will NEVER have to experience that again, but when he started his kidney touble, there were barely any signs in those last 2 days at home. I knew he didn't feel good, some minor vomiting and he was laying by the water bowl, but until Monday morning before he went to the vet and he couldn't stand up or use his hind legs, I just assumed it was a seizure or urinary thing, I WAS SO WRONG. If I had taken him to the vet on Saturday, instead of just going down to pick up his Baytril, maybe we could have saved him, too late for that now. I just needed to get this sadness out of me to all of you beautiful souls here in this forum.
Although this next part deserves it's own topic, I'm going to put it here anyway. Some of you know that I have pet mice (14, now 13) and that they came from when I adopted 2 female fancy mice from the shelter. I didn't know the one girl, Dash, was 4 days pregnant at the time, but she was. I watched her get bigger and bigger, and on December 7, 2004, she gave birth to a litter of 14 babies. We lost 2 of the runts within the first few days, but the other 12 were doing great. On January 5, 2005, they were old enough to be "sexed" and separated, and so I did. I had struggled with what I was going to do with 14 mice altogether, but I decided to get another large cage like the one I already had, so I could keep them all. Everyone said I was nuts, but hey, if I didn't keep them, what would their fate be? There were 7 male babies and 5 female babies, along with the 2 female adults. 7 in one big cage, and 7 in the other, I figured it was meant to be. Over the next few months, as the males got older, they began to fight violently. So one by one, they were separated into homes of their own, until I had 8 cages. They have all been doing good until 4 days ago when I noticed my one boy, Rip, was sleeping with his head down in his stuffed animal. ( I had given all of the boys small stuffed animals so they wouldn't feel so lonely) I picked him up and noticed his eyes were closed, so I swabbed them with cooled, boiled water and I got them to open. He was eating and drinking, and other than the eye thing, he seemed normal. On Saturday, I cleaned all of their cages, which is no small task, let me tell you. When I got to Rip's cage, I noticed he was more lethargic, and his eyes were closed again. I cleaned his cage, swabbed his eyes, and fed him with a syringe to make sure he was getting water and glucose. I put him back in his house, but a few minutes later, he began to tilt to his side. I believe now that it may have been an inner ear thing or a stroke, I held him for a while, but he was seizing. I put him back in his home and said, " It's O.K. to go if you need to." within the hour, he was gone. That was Sunday night. I tucked him into his stuffed pony that he had pulled all of the stuffing out of, held him, and sobbed. After, I put my tear soaked tissue over him and put him in his plastic casket, marked his name, sealed it, and buried him yesterday. I can't believe how much I hurt. Not just for the loss of him, but if it was something genetic, am I going to lose all my others too? I know their life spans are short, 2-3 years usually, and I was aware of the heartbreak I would be in for when I decided to keep them all, but he was only 8 months old. TOO SOON!
Anyway, HARD DAY AHEAD. So much loss since last May, 4 furbabies and my Grandma. The pain is unbearable. I know you all understand, that is why I trust to put my stories of grief here. Thanks to all who take the time to read this.
Pray for me, as I pray for each of you, and I know I'll get through, somehow.
Except for the mice, I have posted the babies I have lost and the babies that are still here with me. I am going to put the links in if anyone wants to see them. I hope to have pics of the mice soon, but they can be a real handful to photograph.
http://lightning-strike.com/forum/index.ph...t=ST&f=7&t=1825
http://lightning-strike.com/forum/index.ph...t=ST&f=9&t=1826
Thank you for letting me share my grief with you all.
Peace, Love, and Prayers,
Michelle

Dear Michelle,

I'm so sorry about Rip. I'm sure some people might think that you can't get attached to mice, but after having my 2 little hamsters, Chip and Daleen, I can totally understand how bad you must feel having lost Rip. Plus, losing him is in such close proximity to losing Cosmo.

One of the very normal stages of grief is to start asking "what if" or saying "I should have." I know I did that with both Shiloh and Hobbie. With Shiloh my thing was "I should have gotten her to the oncologist earlier in the week," and "What if I'd waited another day before having her put to sleep." In either of those scenerios, my "should have" and "what if" actions may have given Shiloh another week or two, but the end result would have been the same. Looking back now, I've found peace in my decision...Shiloh was suffering...she was in pain, and my decision ended her pain...just like your decision ended Cosmo's pain. If you'd waited and tried sub-Q fluids, you might have had Cosmo for a little longer, but he might have been in a lot of pain. Your actions at the time were based on the information you had. Cosmo's life ended knowing you loved him enough to sacrifice your love for him so he could be free of his pain and suffering. It took me several months before I found true peace in my decision, and honestly, sometimes I catch myself still wondering "what if." I try not to go there though because I know Shiloh wouldn't want me to agonize over her death, but rather find comfort in all the happy memories we had together.

I know it's hard, Michelle. I wish you strength as you deal with Cosmo's 2 month anniversary and little Rip's passing.
Hugs,
Kathleen

Michelle,

My heart goes out to you in your excruciating grief!!

Both Mo and Rip absolutely knew, and KNOW, how much you love them! Love transcends our physical bodies, and they are both at peace, experiencing only bliss, in a realm where there's no sense of time or space (which is good, so that they won't have to "wait" at all for you to join them, because it will be instantaneous). .......But I know YOU miss THEM terribly!

I have heard that kidney problems are pretty serious in cats, and I honestly think you did the right thing by having the vet end his pain when you did, instead of trying more. You couldn't stand to see him in pain, so, as others have said on this board, you took on his pain so that he could be without pain. Possibly it was even meant to be that you were so close to the vet's at the time, so that this would be your decision. As far as his heart being strong, that was true, but his kidneys, sadly, were not. It reminds me of when my Dad died in 2002. The doctor commented on how strong his heart and other organs were---but his lungs weren't. ...Oh, and when Mo purred, he may have just been relieved that you were there to make the decision, and very possibly it was him "stopping" you from suggesting trying another day. I've also heard that cats purr just before they're about to pass on, and he may have been sending a message in both ways: "Mommy, it's my time."

In 1998, my 3 1/2-year-old kitty, Mariah, was experiencing some odd symptoms. Turned out to be pancreatitis! Terrifying news. The vet tried administering fluids, tried a blood transfusion, etc., and for 3 nights she stayed at the hospital. Those 3 nights were among the most nightmarish of my life. I just couldn't stand the pain of knowing she was in there hooked up to fluids. I prayed desperately. I would have done anything to save her..... but it wasn't to be. On my visit to her Mon. July 13th, she was severely bloated and miserable. I had her put down then and there. And I was heartbroken that I had put her through the waiting.

And your sweet Rip... how lucky he had you as a Mom, caring so well for him and his brothers and sisters! So touching to read how you swabbed his eyes. (Coincidentally, I happened to be looking at some of my photographs last night, and I came across several pictures of Strawberry, a hamster I used to have. There are pictures of her eating, "posing", etc... then there is the picture of her with her eyes closed.... I had swabbed them, too, to open them... but she seized and passed after not too long. sounds so similar to Rip's cir%%stances except that Strawberry was older.) I know how heartbreaking this is.

How we would give anything to turn back time!!
We can't turn it back, but when it turns ahead, we will be fully reunited with our babies. I have no doubts.

You have been an awesome awesome Mom, Michelle, and a very self-less one. You took such good care of Mo and his special needs. And Rip and his ailment. Whatever ways our babies end up passing on, I believe it's part of the grief process to experience guilt. No matter what we did or didn't do. If the roles were reversed and it was you who had died instead, you wouldn't want Mo, Rip, and the others to torture themselves with guilt. You'd want them to find as much happiness, and give and receive as much love, as they could.

Keep in touch. I'll be sending you prayers.

Love and heartfelt sympathy,

Kathy