Molly

It's a rather strange thing to be writing a cat's obituary in advance but I need some way to make sense of what is probably Molly's last night on earth.

We went to the vet this morning, to tell them that she was not eating, was uncharacteristically lethargic and sneezing a bit, suddenly seems seriously skinny and what with how much she drinks, I'd expected to hear she had kidney trouble and possibly a touch of cat flu.

No.

She has feline leukaemia which is basically a death sentence sooner or later, and given the acute anaemia she is suffering right now, nothing which would normally prolong the inevitable is going to work unless she responds to initial treatment right here, right now, by tomorrow.

It's two weeks to the day Stumpy was killed; it's too soon, I'm not ready to lose another one yet I protest in tears at the vet, but still if they had said, I'd have let her go while we were there rather than mess her about even for another 24 hours, get it over with, for both of our sakes.

But I am so unwilling to let her go if there is a chance I agree, 24 hours more (actually it will be more as I can't get there until the evening surgery) to see if she can find a small appetite, become a little livelier, but I can't honestly say if this is cowardice on my part or simply giving her a chance. And if nothing changes, there is no improvement, that's it. Bye Molly. I bloody well hate having the power of life or death in having to make a decision. I don't know how anyone can deal with this on a regular basis let alone where humans are concerned and as is my habit I wonder how it would feel to have to make that decision for a human life, whether it would be kinder to let someone go than hope for a chance, a miracle, a few days more. But of course the general idea is that a person can choose, can ask or pre-ordain what they would want in those circumstances and my cats don't have that luxury.

Molly came to live with us just a few months back. It was a Friday night and a post on Facebook was pleading for a home for a cat whose family had to leave the following morning and couldn't take her, and even at that last minute no-one was offering. That annoys me, for one thing, and the sanctimonius comments from all the people wishing ill and retribution on the owners without knowing a thing about them or their circumstances, the sentimental "I could never leave my cat" and the boastful "I brought my cat with my twice round the world" and all the pointless, meaningless conscience salving "oh poor girl what a shame"......well all that seriously gets me wanting to say to them all just shut up unless you want to have the cat.

So I volunteered. She was local anyway and they said there was a possible foster home in 10 days or so if it didn't work out or if I wanted......but I was under no illusions, cute fluffy kittens, Siamese or unusual breeds yes, normal bog standard tabby cats (or any other colour for that matter) forget it, you "foster" them? Nope. They will stay as nobody will want to adopt them.

This sounds like no big deal but figure this, apart from the UK mob (now down to 3) I have never in Spain deliberately taken on a cat, or asked for one. They all found me and stayed. That way if something happens, don't blame me, their choice to be here. I've resisted saying yes to all sorts of pleas for homes not just because I generally have plenty of mouths to feed and my lot don't adapt to change so fast, we'd lost Tigger and Napoleon in horrible ways (and the others know how), Titch died and Marmalade disappeared over the summer (and who know what they know about either or both because I haven't a clue) , Patch the stray was a regular at meal times and had been for best parts of a year and they were not settled yet as I'd only been back a few weeks during which we'd been invaded by the small grey furry pest so I figured if I was going to make their lives harder with a new arrival it was a good time to do it before they got comfy again.

Molly, a skinny leggy tabby christened the kangaroo for her odd back end by Pat, who answered to her name, who appeared as laid back as can be, who settled quite well considering and who got on with the others without much bother. She didn't appear to understand litter trays to start with, didn't have much to say for herself and was very good with being in a cat box, preferred to drink from a running tap (yes another one of those) and was never first in the dinner line and easily pushed aside by the other greedy lot. She extended her territory from the spare room to the study where she insisted on sitting on my lap and then biting me, before moving on to the rest of downstairs and shortly after the whole house and the outside. Naturally I held my breath when she went off to explore but she was a good girl and came back when called, and never seemed to be far away anyway.

Like all the others, she moved where she preferred to sleep but she never looked properly relaxed or comfortable somehow. She didn't ever seem to curl up or sprawl. She was happy to be rubbed on her head but she didn't ask to come up on anyone's lap. So when I picked her up on Sunday evening it was a real shock to feel how skinny she was and how light. I'd gone after her to bring her back home as she was heading down the track towards Irene's house and she looked like she could hardly walk. Which started the events which will end tomorrow, I fear.

She always drank a lot, but lately she had been more noticeably demanding not least because her current preference was the kitchen sink and a jug I'd had water in for the steam iron and which she immediately claimed for the next few weeks. There is always clean water in a large bowl so no way to know how much a cat drinks but certainly she was putting a lot away when she was asking me to turn the tap on or top up the jug. But nothing else noticeable, I assumed she was eating when she felt like it as there are always biscuits 24/7 and whilst she didn't ever eat much wet food like the others, she did eat some and had always appeared just a lighter eater and in small doses. She liked to be in the car or the van and I'd had to chuck her out rather than lock her in a few times lately, but not just her, I've got a couple who think it's the best place for a quiet snooze especially since the grey pest arrived........

Saturday evening, I loaded the van and she pottered into the garage after being turfed out of the van. She climbed onto some blankets I'd found her on before and didn't want to come out so I left her there. The garage has bars but on glass on the window so it's a perfect self service hotel for cats. I went to see if she wanted to come in later but she'd gone and didn't come when called so I assumed she'd gone out the window and found somewhere else. She wasn't always home by bedtime but would be there in the morning. But she wasn't in, or in the garage. When I came home, the same applied and she didn't come when called, most unusual so of course I started to worry. Which was when I saw her heading past the house and looking a bit unsteady on her feet. Lethargic springs to mind. Like she could hardly be bothered to go or to stop when I called her. When I picked her up, she weighed so little I was shocked and also at the bony skinny thing she had become under those stripes. And I hadn't noticed. Then she sneezed. So she spent the night isolated in the kitchen with titbits of tasty food and a nice big bowl (and the jug) of water, and the tap turned on for her every time I went in. I put her the old bathroom mat to sleep on as she wasn't inclined to get down from the side of the sink, she'd been sleeping on it recently.

This morning she hadn't eaten and hadn't moved much, and wasn't as interested in the tap either. She didn't make a fuss about the cat carrier or being in the car, but then she didn't when she came to live here. We went to the vets. We came back. She had an appetite stimulant and some serious vitamins and tomorrow we have to see if she is eating again, if she isn't, as Mario the vet says, if the tank is empty the car won't start. Whatever could be done to prolong her life with leukaemia is not going to work while she isn't eating and has such acute anaemia. He wanted to try and I'd have felt really bad denying her that small chance.  I've squirted down her throat a second dose of the stuff she had this morning, and inspired by that (and so I can't say I didn't try) followed it up by some cat milk and some water but when she got out of the cat box to drink some water herself, she was swaying and had trouble. The others have been in to see her, and small grey pest ate her food, but she doesn't really want anything except to be left alone in peace as far as I can tell, she is just totally exhausted and it scares me how fast this set in given that she appeared normal on Saturday evening. She's in her box in the kitchen where she has everything she might want or need right next to her. It's moderately warm and she is tucked in with a fleece. She's snuffling a bit but not snotty. Even if we crack the anaemia maybe she has cat flu or pneumonia or something else. I feel bad looking at her, she appears to be deteriorating before my eyes and I can't help wondering what price this last night, short of a miracle; it's not like she's going to have a slap up feast of anything at all let alone her favourite, nor does it feel kind or appropriate to haul her out and cuddle her which would surely be more for my own sake than hers.

I was afraid to love her from the start, in case she didn't stay, and to my shame I have said she wasn't easy to love as she had no personality like the others. I do like her and of course I care about her, and right now I feel very responsible for her more than ever.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, I could have had her checked at the vets but there didn't seem any reason, she had a home and been neutered. She was quiet and placid and pretty predictable, an easy cat to have around, no trouble but not much personality compared to the others, she got on well enough with them all and had recently been sleeping near the Pest, they seemed to be on fairly respectful terms these days. Yes she drank a lot to my knowledge and she came with that reputation. I never read anything into that or her comparative lack of interest in food. If I had noticed anything earlier she could have had a bit longer without the complications of the anaemia for one thing. But she's probably been like this for ages and long before I took her on; she wasn't quiet she was knackered and I didn't realise. But I can't beat myself up over that and the sympathy should go to poor Molly puss who came in from the cold as a kitten born feral as far as we know, to a family who were often not there and had to go away without her, she was used to being fed outside by a neighbour for much of her short life before she came to me, where she had the run of the house as well as outside and food and water available 24/7.

At times like these we go through the ritual of consoling words like "she had a good life" and "what would have happened if you hadn't had her" and all that stuff but it still amounts to the same. Should I keep vigil tonight? How am I going to go to work tomorrow wondering if I've done her a favour or a disservice leaving her until I get back to go to the vets?  Sooner or later I'm going to be saying goodbye to poor old Molly puss, and very likely tomorrow., short of a miracle, and those are in short supply where my cats are concerned.