He's not coming home

[skyring]

A call from the vet. Claude, our Burmese boy, is not expected to make it through the night. He's on oxygen, in no pain, purrs when approached, but he's just too weak.

All very sudden. A day ago, he began panting and making odd noises. We thought he might have been bitten by some nasty or eaten poison, and took him in for a look. He came back, a verdict of anemia, and some diet recommendations.

Went back in yesterday, and they don't know what's exactly wrong with him, but cancer of the blood was a suspect. The kept him overnight, gave him a transfusion, but he's not getting better.

DD, who is Claude's constant companion, is devastated. She fainted in the vet's surgery when told the news.

Usually cats fade away over years or get run over. Claude's gone from superbly healthy to listless to dying in a couple of days.

For the first time in nearly twenty-five years, we've got no cats in the house.

Poor Claude. He's been our sleek brown panther for ten years, stalking the dog in the undergrowth and around corners, shopping around to find the best lap to sit on, lazing in the afternoon sun on our counterpane, rolling over for a tummy scratch, and bringing home mice to escape into the corners of our kitchen.

Affectionate, clever, elegant in that Burmese fashion, and a vital member of the household.

Comments

[katisha50.livejournal.com]

So sorry to hear this news.