Ah, Jobe means well. It’s amazing how easy it is to say something really insensitive if it’s a good point or funny. A few friends of mine and I took Sponge to the hospital to drop off for cremation; we’re a bunch that tells truly foul jokes about sex and people we don’t like 99% of time. A couple of them were talking about this total asshole at an old common job they had, and how they “wished he was dead.” Dead stop in the conversation, with everyone else trying to pretend that wasn’t just said. Myself, I was simultaneously choked up about Sponge and trying not to laugh.
The more I think about her the more I feel totally, appallingly, guilty. She’d been increasingly lethargic over the last year or so and throwing up more frequently (though still not that often; maybe every couple of weeks; what’s wrong with that? All cats barf!) I can’t believe I didn’t notice that weight loss. Or that I didn’t get a full blood test run last night or take her to the neurologist today; was I putting an unjustified “it’s not so bad” gloss on what the veternarian was saying when she was giving me options? I remember that part of my internal monologue arguing about whether she needed to stay overnight, including a guilt subround about preferring her to die at home with me - though she obviously wasn’t going to, because the vet says this is probably that thing that clears up in a few days, right? Then the next morning I judged she’d be ok today, I suspect because I’m fucking selfish and wanted to go to work, so she died alone (well, the other cat was here I guess, but I still feel like a cad). I didn’t take her into the exam room when we dropped her off for a final goodbye, either; I thought I’d I’d already done so at home, but I was wrong, and should have done that for both of us.
Is everyone so callous about death before they lose someone close? I remember when my great-grandmother passed (who I barely knew), I tried to get out of the funeral to go play battletech; I can probably excuse that on fear of death grounds, I was like 8. But then when I was in high school my grandfather, who I knew kinda-sorta well died, and my dad was all tore up, and I was having a particularly severe round of the religion difficulties with the parents/teenage angst/unpopularity at school thing going on, so I just tried to pretend the whole thing wasn’t happening. Oh, and I had an outdoors cat that I got back in junior high, which I mostly lost interest in after a year because it was kind of annoying (probably because I didn’t play with him much young, because I’d prefer to play video games, because I was a neglectful kid, apparently). Didn’t feel much when my parents told me he’d died last year, either. Wow, I’m an asshole on paper, aren’t I?
Guess I’ll volunteer at a local shelter to try to make amends. I don’t know how people whose children die can handle it; I just want to go into a coma until I “get over it.”
Actually, Jobe doesn’t mean well. It isn’t like he’s making some elegant, salient point on the contradictions inherent in human morality, which transcends the irksome mundanity of a conversation in which someone merely expresses grief at the loss of a pet. It isn’t like what he just wrote was funny. He’s just being a self-righteous little cunt, using Jason’s loss as his dick’s personal spring board in order to leap directly into his own mouth.
It’s funny, Jon R. gets a lot of shit on this forum, some of it rightfully, but what the hell is he doing that Jobe isn’t doing a hundred times more tiresomely and with a gibbering sycophant sewn to his jock to boot? Yes, we’re all indebted to Jobe for the “SHIT! BONERZ!” poll option, introducing smug sneering to Qt3 as a movement, and his endless repetition of Something-Awful capslock + forehead-smashing madness. Thanks for that. But I got to tell you, definition of irony? Self-satisfied, pseudo-intellectual douchebag flaming a thread about the death of a kitty just so he can complain about other people flaming. Jesus, what a bozo.
Anyway, Jason, I won’t derail your thread any further. Sorry about your cat. There’s always woulda’s and coulda’s and shoulda’s in things like this - ultimately, you took your cat in for blood work, got her checked by a vet and accepted a reasonable diagnosis from him that Sponge’s illness would clear itself up and was consequently nothing to worry about. You want to know guilty? I once killed a loved pet (a cockatiel born with some deformity of the legs that I had nursed from a chick and eventually taught how to walk and perch) by sitting on him. That was a hard thing for a hefty fourth grader to get over. :)
Jason, my condolences as well. And for pete’s sake, don’t beat yourself up. There’s really no way you could have known how serious it was. You took care of her as well as anyone would have and she was probably very happy for it.
(And I’d like to send a ‘fuck you’ to Jobe. Could you possibly be any more of a callous ass? Personally, I’d be perfectly content if you never posted another word.)
First one went suddenly - one day seemd fine, the next had troubled breathing and was put down having been told she had lung cancer. Tammy, 14.
Second one was slightly older than Tammy and had deteriorated steadily over the years, getting thinner and more incontinent. Mellowed out though - this cat wouldn’t come near me for most of its years but would now sit on me. Smudge, 18.
Third one was part of a pair of kittens we had picked up, black apart from a small white patch on the throat and had lovely fur until a skin problem developed which fleas did not help. One day we had noticed she was trailing her back leg, thought it might have been injured. Turned out that a blood clot had caused it - the cat had a heart murmor. Ted, 7.
So I can certainly empathise Jason but you shouldn’t beat yourself up - go out and make a home for another cat.
I’m paranoid about my kitty after losing my first this time last year under the wheels of a car. My current cat, Libby was ill a few months ago - wouldn’t eat or drink for over 36hrs, very lethargic and looking extremely sorry for herself and I was almost sick with worry. 24hrs after that, and she was back to her normal self again. It’s easy to feel guilty, but you shouldn’t, as others have pointed out. I’m sure Sponge had the best life you could provide for her, and that’s all that matters.
Now go get another cat. Nothing like that new cat feelin’.
Jesus, Jason. I’m really sorry. Now I feel guilty for telling you “but my kitty got better” story.
I currently have 4 cats, and have watched 3 cats in my lifetime pass away. I don’t know why I find them so charming either, but it does still feel like losing a family member when they go. And fuck anyone that says otherwise.
My condolences on the loss of Sponge. I get vaguely nauseous even thinking about the fact that my cat will one day die (let it be many, many years in the future!), so I can’t imagine what it’s like to actually lose a beloved pet.
If you want to look at a positive: Thanks to your post and your experience I’m going to be 100% attentive to my cat’s weight and overall physical fitness. I don’t think I would have done anything differently than you did, and now that I’ve seen that sometimes things don’t just work themselves out as the Vet tells you… I’ll be extra paranoid.
Take care of yourself, and consider that the Humane Society (or SPCA) has many other wonderful companions just waiting for homes. When you’re ready, they’ll be there… Any cat would be lucky to have you as an owner.
You know, I’ve had so many of my cats die and it never gets easier. I always claim that I won’t get another one, that I won’t put myself through it again, but I always do. My current cat I got because my uncles cat had a litter and I was visiting, saw her sitting there and just couldnt leave without her.
I’ve lost cats due to people killing them, sickness, cars, you name it, but it’s always horrible. It’s just like a member of the family dying.
Yeah, don’t beat yourself up – if her death was that sudden, there’s probably very little you or even the vet could’ve actually done for her. I’m sure Sponge appreciated all the time and energy you spent caring for her, and I’m sure her death was quick; a surprising punctuation mark on what was a very high quality phrase of cat living.
Dude, you cared for that cat like few pet lovers I’ve seen. Mourn her for losing the incredibly great life she had, not because of those moments you thought you could change.
Self-righteous hypocrite. A dead pet is a real-life event, not some message-board squabble, not a reference to past Qt3 threads. You are shitting on the occasion of someone’s deeply felt pain. I doubt that there’s any opportunity to be holier-than-thou that you wouldn’t take.
Jason, I’m sorry about your cat. Don’t feel responsible — you really aren’t; you did everything you should have.
Can’t say much more than what everyone else has, but sorry.
My wife convinced us to get a cat 4 or 5 years ago. I had sworn to never get another animal once I lived on my own because of all of the pain from losing pets as I grew up. Now it seems my 3 year old child is allergic and our small house is pretty crowded with the four of us. I don’t know what to do. I cannot think of a single person I would trust to take her off my hands around here, but I would ship her to a tree-hugging nutjob like you in a second as you seem to truly care about the little creatures like I do. (Sorry if that’s a little sappy, but that’s how most folks are about there pets. SO there.)
Sorry about your cat, Jason, my condolences. I went through a scare a few months back when my dog’s back just stopped working - his whole back half just stopped moving. It turned out during some doggy fits of running around and such, a disc in his back had slipped and pinched a nerve to the point where the vet suggested he be put down. Instead, my family went for the long shot $1000 operation (we all chipped in, since he’s been the family dog for several years now), and now he has about 75% mobility in his hindquarters (the most he’ll ever get back, but still good).
Sorry to get off-topic, but I know how torn up I got thinking that my dog had to, and was going to be put down, and I understand how you must feel. :(
Sorry for your loss, Jason. Don’t beat yourself up.
When I was feeling guilty about something a friend of mine pointed out that guilt is the most useless of emotions. I believe it’s true. Unlike other emotions, you don’t get anything back from feeling guilty.
Sounds similar to my cat’s slow spiral a few years back – turned out to be some sort of hyperthyroid condition. Managed to catch it in time to have to opportunity to pay for some rather expensive surgery. The first couple years after the surgery, he did OK, although he never bounced back to full power; the past two or three years have been marked with several downhill slides where I think he’s right near the end, but then perks back up after a couple weeks, only to go downhill again a couple weeks later.
Overall, he generally seems fairly listless and unhappy, enough so that I keep thinking “I really oughtta take him in, he’s miserable”, but I can’t ever quite bring myself to do it. I can’t decide which is more selfish: letting him waste away slowly (with occasional periods of happy cat), or having him put down (to end the general misery, and quit having to do nasty sick cat maintenance/cleaning). Since I’m not sure, I err on the side of not deciding, since I can’t change my mind once it’s done.
The upshot: even if something could’ve been done to prolong your cat’s life, it may well be things turned out for the best. Quality of life and all that.
Good plan. And consider waiting a while before you get another cat, too.