Murphy passed away on Wednesday.
He basically stopped eating on Monday; we were giving him Nutrical, then he stopped doing much of anything and we noticed rapid weight loss and very little urine in the box. Took him into the vet on Wednesday AM; when I picked him up to go into his "man cave" I could feel literally every bone in his body. He was stable, but the vet said that based on his weight loss (one pound in about three months; he weighed barely five pounds), severe kidney atrophy, a very recent mass on his thyroid and progression of his dental disease (abcesses at the least) euthanasia was the best option. There was no point in keeping him alive if it would only result in more stress all around.
We all gave each other three great years; not everything was perfect, but nothing is for cats. Nobody really knew how old he was, and the reason we got him was that the previous owner's family basically left him to die (no medical care beyond the minimum; once the owner went into hospice they left him in the apartment and ignored vet instructions for care). Everything we didn't know about just caught up with him.
Murf, Smudge, Floops, whatever name you're going by today, know you will be missed. Find a one-eyed white cat with catchers-mitt feet and ginger markings and be sure to let him know how much fun you had with us. May you frolic healthy and get all the turkey, salmon, treats and sun you could ever want and then some.
He basically stopped eating on Monday; we were giving him Nutrical, then he stopped doing much of anything and we noticed rapid weight loss and very little urine in the box. Took him into the vet on Wednesday AM; when I picked him up to go into his "man cave" I could feel literally every bone in his body. He was stable, but the vet said that based on his weight loss (one pound in about three months; he weighed barely five pounds), severe kidney atrophy, a very recent mass on his thyroid and progression of his dental disease (abcesses at the least) euthanasia was the best option. There was no point in keeping him alive if it would only result in more stress all around.
We all gave each other three great years; not everything was perfect, but nothing is for cats. Nobody really knew how old he was, and the reason we got him was that the previous owner's family basically left him to die (no medical care beyond the minimum; once the owner went into hospice they left him in the apartment and ignored vet instructions for care). Everything we didn't know about just caught up with him.
Murf, Smudge, Floops, whatever name you're going by today, know you will be missed. Find a one-eyed white cat with catchers-mitt feet and ginger markings and be sure to let him know how much fun you had with us. May you frolic healthy and get all the turkey, salmon, treats and sun you could ever want and then some.
Comment