On Sunday, I had to say goodbye to my old baby cat Minou (Caramel, a Bombay), he was almost 18 years old. What upsets me the most is that we took him to the vet multiple times over the past few months, yet his lymphoma was only discovered when it was already too late.
Back in August, we brought him in because he had a fever. We kept being told it was his age, his kidneys, or just fatigue, even though his kidney condition remained stable until the very end. Almost every visit, we were dealing with a different veterinary assistant, and we were mostly just prescribed the same medication we already had.
There was really only one veterinarian who seemed to know what he was doing, and on October 23, he finally discovered my cat had a lymphoma and not just chronic inflammation as we'd previously been told. Unfortunately by then the tumor was already too large and my cat was too weak to undergo a biopsy and do chemotherapy.
I can't stop thinking about how things might've been different if we'd pushed for more tests, especially an ultrasound back in August or September, instead of the vet finally deciding to do one in October when it was already too late. He was still doing so well just a few months ago, and everything happened so fast. I'm honestly convinced he could've made it to 20 with the amount of love he received in his life, if we'd caught and stabilized the tumor earlier.
On October 21, after two days on IV fluids, he came back home looking so much better. He was eating like crazy, had two entire pouches of food and still wanted more. I actually thought he was recovering but by Thursday evening he started getting weaker again, and on Friday we had to take him back to the vet. And then on Sunday, I held him in my arms while the vet put him to sleep. He fell asleep almost immediately before receiving the final injection.
I wanted to be there with him until the very end, but fuck, it's so hard. I feel empty, and I still think about his little face after he passed away.
One of the vets there, who was really kind to us, told us she'd never seen a cat so loved before. That meant a lot to me, but it also made me sad thinking about all the animals out there who never get to experience the amount of love my mom and I gave to Minou.
I'm 26 and I've had him since I was 8. He was there for pretty much my entire childhood, teenage years, and adult life so far. Apart from my mom, my cat was my family and pretty much my entire world. So losing him feels like losing a huge part of my life.
I'm grateful I got to spend all this time with him, and I know he had a wonderful life. But it still hurts. I really hope I'll eventually be able to cope with losing him, because right now I'm not sure how to do it.