We first noticed something was wrong one midnight, when we awoke to the staccato rumble of running paws. The cat jumped on our bed, and with one paw on my wife's belly and another on my arm, she was gone. Upstairs she sounded like a galloping horse, running back and forth... I rolled over and pulled a pillow over my head. Of course we didn't realize she was having a bowel movement at the time. The next morning we found feces on the couch, the stairs, and even a small piece on our bed.
Things gradually got worse, with more frequent running and pooping. Often the feces would be a few feet from her litter box: this was her way of saying she knew where to go, but that she wanted to make a statement. When she started peeing outside the box, we knew it was serious.
The vet could find no specific cause, but suggested x-rays and potentially an endoscopy. We demurred, opting instead for the cheaper injection of fluids and bland older-cat food. things seemed better for a few fays, until we realized she wasn't pooping at all. when it would come out, it was liquid. Diarrhea, coupled with our cat's running bowel movement, meant lines of shit on the carpet and splatters on the walls whenever she turned. I Googled "cat diapers" and entertained the thought of purchase, but instead took her for another round of groping and prodding at the vet clinic.
At this point Tea weighed 7.5 pounds, more than a pound less than her typical scrawny self. The vet took more blood, x-rays, urine and feces, but still there was no specific cause. Her bowels and intestines seemed enlarged, suggesting cat-IBS or cancer. The vet again suggested an endoscopy and other invasive diagnostics, with costs starting at $1200. Instead Tea got some general purpose antibiotics, which I had to drop down her throat twice a day. I didn't blame her for shitting on my clothes after that - I'd be pissed too. I brought her water in a glass to help her swallow afterward. She spent these days in the back of our closet, looking up at me with her face turned downward, pure embodied misery.
Tea was definitely not happy. She was eating less and less, only drinking when I brought water to her, and she'd even started peeing in her own bedding in the closet. Since things weren't getting better, even with the pill-popping and increased drinking, we needed to make final decisions about Tea's life. After a great run (15 years) and against all odds (the runt of the litter, tiny kidneys) it seemed likely that this was her end. Expensive diagnostics could only point to the worst diseases, which we could not afford to deal with (nor could Tea live with prolonged symptoms). The vet talked about euthanasia, but I was very reluctant to accept her death at my hands. Looking into her eyes, into that depth of life and immediate experience, I simply could not end it for her. Besides, she was still purring!*
We told the kids that Tea may not make live through the weekend. We shared true stories (not just Tea Stories) with the kids of when Tea was younger; the mewing and midnight feedings when she was 2 weeks old and couldn't yet eat solid food; the mysterious disappearance of her sister Doctor Atmo, with a window left open and Tea nearby; Tea running away from home, returning three weeks later emaciated and dehydrated. We all laughed and cried through dinner, remembering our own stories. Missing from the discussion was Tea herself, who stayed in the closet all day.
That night, Tea came out of the closet to sleep by my wife's side. I came to bed late and saw Tea there, which gave me hope she was feeling better. I lay down, and in a moment felt the familiar tap of tea's paw on my back. Exhausted I didn't roll over, but I smiled.
A few seconds later my wife, with a mixture of fear and anguish, said "Oh my God Tea's peeing on me!" I sat upright and grabbed Tea, and with my wife saying "don't lift her-" I put Tea down on the floor, where she hobbled back to the closet. My wife took a shower and I stripped the bed & scrubbed the mattress. We were back in bed by 2am. Still shaking, I agreed to take Tea into the vet in the morning.
At the vet's office, I was again given the options; endoscopy, death at home, death at the vet's. I asked for anything that could make Tea less miserable if she were to ride it out at home. The vet recommended stronger antibiotics, which may help her immune system deal with the true cause of her condition, and steroids, which reduce inflammation and might give her energy. She gave Tea a shot of each, and some more bland cat food samples - enough to last the weekend. I talked to Tea on the ride home, telling her I loved her and wanted her to feel better. I also apologized for getting mad at her shitting everywhere, and even wanting her to die so that she would not poop and pee on us any more. I felt much better after getting this off my chest. I'm not sure she understood my words, but I am positive she got the underlying message - I was being fully honest and open with her and with myself, therefore my emotions were clear and strong.
Today two weeks have passed since Tea got her shots. She actually started eating the same night I brought her home, and the next day walked around the house. After a day or two she started using the litter box again. By Monday, she asked to go outside, and as her strength has returned she's gone outside multiple times each day. So now we have a cat on steroids, but without the fear of long-term side effects (there is no 'long term') or getting kicked out of pro sports.
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*About the purring: I noticed that Tea would purr before I pet her, just as I was walking toward her or she to me. Sometimes I would be typing an email or eating cereal, not even looking at her, but she would be purring very loudly. I don't think the purrs, therefore, reflect a state of contentment; rather, they seem to be an expression of desire for contentment, maybe as the saliva is to Pavlov's poor dog. I've also read that cats purr when giving birth, and when they are in pain. I don't think this means the purr is a matter of pain or even a more dynamic indication of speech ability - I think it just shows that cats can avoid living in the moment, desiring some future outcome, just like people.
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