justginger
Ideal_Rock
- Joined
- May 11, 2009
- Messages
- 3,712
My precious Filly joined our house last year as a foster, at 5 weeks old, trapped from an industrial area. His entire litter was unwell from the start, and many of you may remember them as the "Salmonella kittens." The runt of the litter was unable to survive the infection and passed just before Christmas. Filly was near death that same night, but an intervening 1:30a vet visit saved his life. I know many of you sent him dust for his recovery, which required 4x daily subcut fluid injections while his body fought off the infection.
He healed and found a niche in our home. He, solid black, was the pepper to his brother Exacta, solid white,'s salt. They were a matched set, a spicy combo that I couldn't let go of -- we foster failed with both of them. I made it official as of Nov 1, when I registered both of them under the new cat laws to our home.
A week ago I noticed Filly wasn't as rotund as he used to be. Monday night I noticed that I could actually feel his backbone and ribs very clearly. I watched him Tuesday, and saw him exhibiting classic symptoms of diabetes. I visited the vet first thing Wed, when he was admitted to their hospital for a gamut of tests, underweight, anorexic, lethargic, and ketotic. Every test we ran came back negative. His bloods showed nothing specific - inflammation, but who knew where?
I picked him up Friday night in a last ditch attempt to get him to eat, something it was obvious he stopped doing some time ago. I brought him home, pureed every cat-adored material in the house, and he would have no part of it. I could see his back legs were worse, he would stop frequently to rest just when walking from one side of our (very small) house to the other.
So back to the vet he went, to have a feeding tube inserted. This is the only regret I have. I hadn't seen him today, Saturday, or I would have elected not to have it done. I would have seen that it was of no use, and would only cause him pain. Alas, hindsight. I know now for the future. When the feeding tube was inserted, an ultrasound was done at the same time, revealing significant amounts of peritoneal fluid. Upon aspiration, it was easy to see it was an exudate, not a transudate.
Add in this critical finding with the fact that his globulins were very high, his lymphocytes were low, and his albumin was low, the combination suggested with ~98% sensitivity that he had FIP. FIP's mortality rate, depending on the source of information, is 98-100%. I picked him up tonight with the intention of allowing him to spend one last weekend at home, with a full belly, before being put to sleep.
We got home, and within half an hour I knew I had to intervene sooner. He was unable to take more than three steps without collapsing, and even his head strength was fading. At 7pm I phoned a mobile vet, and curled up with him in bed. She arrived at 9, and he passed away looking into my eyes. I know he could feel my heart, and all the emotions I have for him. I am devastated that I could not save him, but I am so grateful that I knew when to admit defeat. He will join his litter mate, Trifecta, that I lost last Christmas under the frangipani tree.
Thank you everyone for your good wishes over the last year for him. I am happy to have been given that second chance to enjoy him for as long as I did.
My little baby black monster
One last photo of us together.
He healed and found a niche in our home. He, solid black, was the pepper to his brother Exacta, solid white,'s salt. They were a matched set, a spicy combo that I couldn't let go of -- we foster failed with both of them. I made it official as of Nov 1, when I registered both of them under the new cat laws to our home.
A week ago I noticed Filly wasn't as rotund as he used to be. Monday night I noticed that I could actually feel his backbone and ribs very clearly. I watched him Tuesday, and saw him exhibiting classic symptoms of diabetes. I visited the vet first thing Wed, when he was admitted to their hospital for a gamut of tests, underweight, anorexic, lethargic, and ketotic. Every test we ran came back negative. His bloods showed nothing specific - inflammation, but who knew where?
I picked him up Friday night in a last ditch attempt to get him to eat, something it was obvious he stopped doing some time ago. I brought him home, pureed every cat-adored material in the house, and he would have no part of it. I could see his back legs were worse, he would stop frequently to rest just when walking from one side of our (very small) house to the other.
So back to the vet he went, to have a feeding tube inserted. This is the only regret I have. I hadn't seen him today, Saturday, or I would have elected not to have it done. I would have seen that it was of no use, and would only cause him pain. Alas, hindsight. I know now for the future. When the feeding tube was inserted, an ultrasound was done at the same time, revealing significant amounts of peritoneal fluid. Upon aspiration, it was easy to see it was an exudate, not a transudate.
Add in this critical finding with the fact that his globulins were very high, his lymphocytes were low, and his albumin was low, the combination suggested with ~98% sensitivity that he had FIP. FIP's mortality rate, depending on the source of information, is 98-100%. I picked him up tonight with the intention of allowing him to spend one last weekend at home, with a full belly, before being put to sleep.
We got home, and within half an hour I knew I had to intervene sooner. He was unable to take more than three steps without collapsing, and even his head strength was fading. At 7pm I phoned a mobile vet, and curled up with him in bed. She arrived at 9, and he passed away looking into my eyes. I know he could feel my heart, and all the emotions I have for him. I am devastated that I could not save him, but I am so grateful that I knew when to admit defeat. He will join his litter mate, Trifecta, that I lost last Christmas under the frangipani tree.
Thank you everyone for your good wishes over the last year for him. I am happy to have been given that second chance to enjoy him for as long as I did.
My little baby black monster
One last photo of us together.
I am dreading the time which is coming soon for my boy too. (((Hugs...)))
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