After six weeks of fighting, and being loved every day, Oreo lost his battle with Lymphoma on February 10th. Three days after I posted the last blog entry, I thought we would be bringing to the vet for our final good-bye. But our Vet gave us hope for a little more time, prioritizing quality of life over quantity. He received a steroid injection, and some medication to stimulate his appetite. We brought him home and within a day, we saw a noticeable improvement in his condition. Before the end of that week, he was like his old self once again, moving fine, eating well, and craving cuddles. It reached the point where I didn’t even need to give him the stimulate but once a week, just to make sure he kept eating his normal amount. After two weeks, when the injection wore off, we went to a daily steroid pill, and things continued as normal. It almost seemed like the diagnosis was wrong and that we had nothing more to worry about, but the truth was always in the back of our mind – that his time with us was limited.
I knew we were reaching the end at the first week of February, when I noticed he wasn’t eating as much as normal. Usually his bowl would be spotless; nary a crumb left. But little by little, he was leaving more and more food, so I started giving him the appetite stimulate daily again, but it wasn’t having any affect. He seemed hungry, but simply would not eat the whole serving, which began to be problematic as that was how we were giving him his steroid pill. He would still lap up a full lickable treat, however, so I began to crush up the pill and mix it in with the lickable. That worked for a couple of days, but by the weekend, he had stopped eating his regular food altogether and would only take of few licks of the treat before losing interest. At that point I stopped giving him the stimulate as it obviously wasn’t helping. He was still moving well, and didn’t appear to be in pain. Monday morning showed no change, so I went off to work and called the Vet to make an appointment. I wanted to see if there was anything else that could be done at this point since we weren’t able to get him his medicine all weekend. In the back of my mind, however, I knew and prepared myself for what the conclusion would be.
When I got home, it became all the more apparent. He was more lethargic than he had been the entire time he was sick. He was alert and welcomed his cuddles and pets, but it was clear the end was coming. I thanked him for making the next day’s decision at the vet a little easier on my mind, even if it wasn’t easier on my heart or my soul. I spent the night with him in the spare bedroom we had set up for him, so he would not be alone if the end came before we went to the vet. The next morning, I got up and got the youngest child ready for school. I told her to spend some time with Oreo and tell him how much we loved him. After getting her on the bus, I made ready to get Oreo to the vet. Our oldest said her good-byes and then it was time to go.
After the nurse did the routine checks and it was just Oreo and I waiting in the room for the doctor, I held him close on the table, gently stroking his fur and telling him how much I loved him and that he was a good boy, as he buried his head in my other arm, which I had around him, giving him as much a comforting embrace that I could. The doctor came in and I brought him up to speed on Oreo’s status and the doctor went through with his examination. Once done, he indicated that there may be a few things that could be done, but we were both at the point where we knew anything else would not give him a meaningful amount of time, and would more stress upon him than the possible benefits to his quality would offset. The paperwork was signed, and the doctor brought in the injections that would end Oreo’s pain, and send him over the Rainbow Bridge. I stroked his head and paws and whispered into his ear how much a good cat he had been and how sorry I was that I couldn’t give him more of the time he deserved to enjoy being a house cat. And then he passed quietly and peacefully. The doctor gave me time with him alone, and when I finally left the room, his fur was wet with my tears, and I bundled him in the towel so he would be warm and comforted.
Today, we brought him home for the final time. The box with his paw print sits on the shelf with Marley’s and all the ones from my Mom’s ferrets, which we kept with us after cleaning out the house from her passing back in May. The box with Oreo’s ashes now sits atop his food bowl in the corner cabinet of the living, just like Cookie’s does. Inside is a baggie with some of his fur I took from the last brushing I gave him. In between him and Cookie is Marley with his collar and tags. On the other side of Oreo is the box that contains Rey, the last ferret who passed before Mom has passed away herself. Oreo is surrounded by his friends both in life and in the afterlife. He once was a cat who had no home, and slowly found a way into ours, and into our hearts. He is now forever home with us in both.
