Harry

Harry1!

I've been figuring out how and when I wanted to blog about Harry and his diagnosis, but it's been so hard.  Telling people made it real and I didn't want it to be real.  Tonight he made that decision for me.  Sometime between 9:30 & 11:30 Harry passed away.

Harry3!

Harry was an extremely silly kitty - here he is in his cat bed on top of a cat tree and hanging out the side - he did this for about 15 minutes.  He kept edging closer to the side and eventually tipped out.  My daughter promptly put him back in and gave him a good belly rub.  I always loved his little white-tipped back paws.  He got his name because of Harry Houdini - Harry was in quarrantine in my bathroom with his littermates.  That wasn't good enough for him - he wanted to be with the people, so he took the cover off the vent and crawled through the ducts, showed up at the family room vent and meowed until we noticed him and let him out.  Thinking this was a fluke, we put him back in the bathroom and he promptly showed up at the vent again!  He got to move to the basement with the other fosters.  There he would climb me whenever he got the chance and loved to jump on my back while I scooped litter boxes because I'd have to hold him to be able to stand up again.  Smart cat!  It would be another year before we decided that we had to keep the obnoxious boy.

Harry!

We adopted Harry because my daughter fell in love with him and begged Daddy until he said yes.  I agreed because deep down, I knew that something wasn't right with him and I didn't feel comfortable letting him go.  It amazed me how strongly I got attached once he went from being my foster to my kitty.  I loved him for a long time and kept not bringing him to PetSmart, but once we brought him into the real household, he just had me wrapped around his paw.  Everyone who met him just loved him and thought that he was a neat guy.  My daughter loved to dress him up - I regret not taking any pictures of him wearing clothes.  One of my favorites was a Christmas t-shirt that said "Give me a present or I'll pee on your tree".  He looked really cute in his Halloween costume - a red, silk cape that said Super Cat.  People talking on the phone with me would stop and ask me what that loud noise was and I'd have to explain that Harry was purring!  The boy had character, that was no doubt!

Harry

Three weeks ago, I took Harry and Max in because I noticed that Harry was sounding raspy in his breathing and Max seemed to be losing his voice (not a bad thing in a whiny siamese) and so they both got nebulizer treatments and powerful antibiotics.  Two weeks ago I noticed that Harry was having trouble breathing.  I thought about taking him to the emergency clinic but my cat-lady experience told me that it was either the dreaded FIP or a cardiac problem.  I nursed him along through the weekend and got him in first thing on Monday.  I was pretty certain that the news was going to be bad.  The vet agreed that those were the two possiblities.  There were some indications of FIP, but not conclusive.  He had tons of fluid on his chest and abdomen, so we started him on lasix to help remove some of that and scheduled an ultrasound for his heart.  If it was FIP, he'd be getting worse by the time of the ultrasound and I was cautiously optimistic because in a few days he was feeling much better and becoming more active.  He had a few days of being spoiled - we let him purr at 5:00 AM even though he was too loud to sleep through, I let him eat my waffle, I let him drink out of my glass, I stopped everything any time he wanted affection.  I carried him everywhere and acted like I had a newborn - he was always in my arms and I even cooked while carrying the cat!  We had to figure out if he was going to live or not because if he was going to live, he was going to be too spoiled to live with!    I couldn't begin to count how many tears I shed that week.  My daughter took the news pretty hard as well - while she was crying out of control, I tried a little humor as I always do.  I told her to go act all pathetic, crawl in Daddy's lap, cry on his shoulder a bit, then look up and say "I want a pony".  She thought it was the funniest thing she ever heard!  And no, she didn't do it, instead she went to Daddy and told on me! 

Harry2

Ultrasound day came and we were a bit nervous as to how he would do.  He did not like having his blood drawn just a few days before ( he fought us so much that he had to have some extra oxygen to help calm him down.)  But he was a good boy and let them do a thorough exam.  Right away they could tell that his heart was too big.  And not in the good way that we already knew and loved.  The specialist talked about possible medications and that he wouldn't grow to be an old kitty.  She took measurements and I felt a bit reassured that we had a diagnosis and a treatment plan and some time. 

Then she found the blood clot and everything changed. 

Harry went from being a cat with a manageable condition to a ticking time bomb.  That was 9 days ago.  We started the drugs anyway and he felt better.  In the last couple of days he was getting back to his old self and had more of that sense of mischief about him.  He'd try to jump up on me and started attacking my hand while getting petted.  He just seemed happy.  He'd sleep curled up on me and it was hard to fathom that it could all end.  The kids couldn't understand that he was terminally ill when he didn't look sick. 

Harry1

It was unusual for Harry to not be by my side for the evening of TV watching, but I was working on a project at a card-table and not sitting on the couch knitting, so I didn't notice that he wasn't around.  I was getting tired and still had to do kitty chores.  So I went downstairs and did the food/water/meds rounds, then went upstairs to do the same for my own cats.  I noticed right away that Tad & Max came into the bathroom for their treat, but Harry was no where to be found.  I searched the whole house for him, opened canned food, checked the garage, but had a sinking feeling that he was no longer with us.  I worried that he had gone somewhere impossible to find and passed away.  My husband was already sleeping, so I didn't want to disturb him by searching our room, yet I knew that's where I'd find Harry.  Sure enough, he was under the bed with his mouth hanging open.  I guess I was numb, I felt remarkably calm as I woke my husband up and told him.  I went and got an old towel to wrap him in and we decided to let the kids sleep and tell them in the morning.  A few tears came as I wrapped him up and we decided to lay him in the garage for the evening so that the other pets wouldn't be by him and it would be cool.  I went out there carrying my buddy, stroking his head and found that I couldn't put him down.  I just cradled him in my arms and bawled like a baby and shook from the stress and the cold and just didn't want to leave him, didn't want to make it real, didn't want to make it be over.  I wanted to go back in the house and have him sitting by the door waiting for me to scoop him up and make him purr. 

Tonight is hard, but tomorrow is going to suck.  I have to tell my little girl that her cat is dead.  She won't be going to school.  I have to take Harry to the vet for the last time and leave him there and never see him again.  I have to tell people that he's gone and feel my heart get ripped out everytime that someone asks about him.  I have to go through a whole day where he doesn't purr, or sit in my spot so I have to scoop him up and move him or sit and watch me make dinner or help me type emails.  Then I have to do it the next day and the next day.   I have no desire to sleep or do anything.  Writing about him is like a band-aid on my heart and everytime I stop I feel like it's being ripped off and I'm so alone that it hurts. 

It's not that I don't have other wonderful pets that love me and need me and I love and need them.  Harry was just special, like a summer romance that teaches you something about yourself and makes an impact on the rest of your life.  Magic like that is fleeting.  Our lives are better for having shared it with that crazy little cat.