We Have To Bid Blackie Farewell

We Have To Bid Blackie Farewell

The Vet rang us this morning before 8.00 a.m., but not with the news we had been hoping for.

Blackie's potassium and sodium levels were better, but he was still not able to stand, and not moving very much; he was clearly distressed that he could not get to his tray. We had a very sober discussion about the options still open for Blackie but, in the Vet's opinion, Blackie would probably not benefit from further investigative treatment.

He could have an MRI scan, but that would involve an anaesthetic, and in any case would probably only serve to confirm what the main suspected illnesses affecting Blackie are: primarily, the Vets were agreed the most likely diagnosis is cancer - possibly in Blackie's brain, or on his spine, which would cause the ataxia. Apart from Blackie not being able to get onto the litter tray, he cannot move very much at all; they had found him with his head lying against his food bowl, so clearly he had tried to eat something but could not raise his head enough to manage it. For such a clean and independent cat like Blackie, this loss of control is terrible for him.

If the Vets had been hopeful that an MRI scan might have indicated Blackie could undergo surgery, we would not have hesitated to go ahead; even with only a slim chance of success, we wanted him to have every chance we could give him, to recover. But, and here was the rub: an MRI scan would be stressful for Blackie, and he was already distressed. We didn't want to put him through any more tests, just to satisfy ourselves about the diagnosis.

The Vet said she was sure he wasn't in any pain; he was just not able to understand why suddenly he couldn't do the things he wanted to do, so we took a half-way stage decision: repeat the blood tests, and give him a few more hours. The Vet said she would call us back at about midday, and let us know the results.

The morning passed in a blur. I couldn't settle to anything - I don't think any of us could believe how this time yesterday morning, Blackie was fine, and now here we are, facing the fact of his devastating illness.

The Vet rang us at mid-day, to say the blood tests were back, and they had got his potassium and sodium levels up; but that really did not change anything. Blackie is still unable to move, still so unhappy that he is not able to do what he used to do; medically, there is nothing else to be done.

We took a deep breath, and agreed on the last decision we could make for Blackie: to have him put to sleep.

Because of the virus, the practise is not allowing anyone into the building, but we could drive to the car park, as we did last night, and the Vet said she would bring Blackie out to us, so that we could say goodbye. We arranged to be there by 4.30 p.m.

Wendy came as well; when we arrived at the surgery, we phoned them to say we were in the car park, and a few minutes later, the Vet brought Blackie out to us, in his carry basket, and put him on the back seat of the car.

I was so glad it wasn't raining, and not cold. We opened the top of the basket, and he could feel the fresh air on his face and we could stroke him and talk to him, and tell him what a good cat he is, and how much we love him.

Blackie was pleased to see us, but his pupils were dilated, and he had clearly deteriorated since last night. He made the occasional little meow - oh, where was that great, powerful, demanding, Siamese-like, strident MEOW! from just a day ago? - and Wendy could feel him purring very gently. He looked at us, but he also seemed bewildered; he lifted his head for us, and licked his nose occasionally.  His breathing also seemed rapid, and we just took turns to stroke him and tickle him under his chin - even being so ill, he responded to that - and then at last we had to say one final goodbye.

We rang the Reception, and the Vet came out to collect Blackie. We had taken an old navy-blue fleece top with us, that Wendy had given him years ago when he was ill with pancreatitis, and Blackie really loved it - he would paddle it with his paws until he got it in exactly the right place, and we thought that it would be an appropriate covering for him, as he was put to sleep.

The Vet said someone would be there to cuddle Blackie; he still had a cannula in his leg, so there would be no need to inject him, and the medication would be administered very easily through the port.

Then we sat and waited; walked to some flowering fruit trees and admired the blossom, and thought of Blackie. We do believe that God made "...All creatures, great and small..." and have faith that He knows when one little cat dies.

Well, it was a very long 15-20 minutes, before the Vet rang us to say she would be bringing Blackie back to us. She had already mentioned they have a special box in which they could place him, and in which we could bury him in the garden; we thought that was a lovely idea. Presently the Vet and a lovely nurse came out, carrying Blackie so carefully, and placed him gently in the car.

The Vet told us it had been completely painless; the nurse said she had cuddled Blackie, and had been tickling him under his chin all the time, so he was loved, and not alone.

I know they must deal with so many pet owners at sad times like this, but we really felt they understood. They had cared for Blackie and made sure his ending was gentle and peaceful.