I lost my sweet little girl cat yesterday morning, Friday, November 20th, 2020. My lovely calico pixie bob with the most beautiful blue eyes, who lay by my side nearly every night. She was a stray cat I had taken in five years ago, and I never knew how old she was, and I never took her to the vet. It was very selfish of me. I was so attached to her I was afraid the veterinarian would find a microchip identifying her as belonging to someone else and she would be taken away from me.
When I found her she was in very bad shape. Had I not taken her in she surely would have died. She had tapeworms. So I got some tapeworm medication and once that cleared up she seemed entirely healthy up until earlier this year. She had the signs of having a cold, eye drainage, runny nose, and sneezing. I tried the best I could, cleaning her eyes with cotton balls soaked in saline solution. I also used chamomile and distilled water eye drops a few times. And it seemed to help.
But then a couple months ago she started missing the litter box and having accidents all over the place. I had to buy puppy pee pads. Anyway, I just figured it was a sign of old age, and was going to live with it. Well, it seemed that other than some mild incontinence, her cold and eye drainage seemed to be getting better but then about a week ago I had gotten sick, not sure what it was if it was a bad cold, or sinus problem, or even a mild case of Covid, I've never been tested so I don't know, but soon after that she started getting a really bad cold too with a lot of yellow mucus coming out of her nose and eyes, and I had to wipe them frequently, especially her nostrils, because it was crusting over really bad and interfering with her breathing. That was a week ago. Again it seemed like she was starting to get better just a couple days ago, but then all of a sudden a day before she died she took a rapid turn for the worse, couldn't walk for more than a few feet without collapsing, and refused to eat, but still drank water and urinated on the floor, as she didn't have the strength to stand. I thought that too would pass that she was just having a bad day, because it was only one day like that, but the next day she was gone.
I am left in a state of grief and shock, not knowing what she died from, and not knowing if her death could have been prevented, or if she could have been saved had I just taken her to the vet. I'll never know. It was a terrible error in judgment that I will have to live with for the rest of my life.
Now it is very empty here without her. I've always felt that way after the loss of a pet. It wasn't as bad last time though because I had two cats, and my other cat that died was 15, and because of his old age it was less shocking, but this one seemed younger, I would speculate that she could have been between eight and ten, but not knowing for sure makes it all the more worse.
Although death is always a saddening affair no matter how old they are, it is always harder to lose someone younger than older, because you figure it is natural to eventually die from old age, but when they die young, you think they could have been saved, and that it was a tragic mistake, but there is no way to fix it. It is done. Nothing can change it. There is no thinking your way or talking your way out of this one. It's reality in its coldest and most unsympathetic and brutal honesty.
Death is the ultimate wake-up call, the slayer of delusion. You can take care of life, prolong it, make it healthier, stronger, more comfortable, but eventually, in the end no matter what you do, you'll lose the good fight, too. Death is the victor that cannot be defeated, the adversary in which there is no escape. For this we must find the courage and the wisdom to accept that which we do not have the power to change. This may be our only solace in the end.