Meire Marion's Corner...: Cookie’s Last Meow

When we adopt a pet we know that they will not out live us (and the thought of that happening is frightening because we’d have to leave them to be cared for by strangers) however, this thought goes away and we tend to believe that they will live forever.

Cookie was born on February 20, 2003 (Tortoiseshell Persian female cat) and came to live with me when she was 3 months old; the size of a CD. During all these years the only time she got sick was an ear infection due to the fact that she liked to be outside on the veranda when it rained. Giving her medication was not an easy task and after that experience she stopped staying out in the rain. But she did love water.

On Monday January 6, 2014 I noticed that she would go to her sand box quite often and stay there longer than usual and when she’d leave there would only be a couple of drops of urine. After the fifth time in a row that that happened, I decided to take her to the vet; something was wrong.

The vet examined her and noticed that she had a bladder infection; easy anti biotic treatment during a period of seven days would do the trick. Not so easy. Since the ear infection, I decided that taking her to the vet every day for a shot would be much more effective. So that is what I did every day at 4pm.

From Monday up until Friday she was eating properly and using her sand box for number two although she was still having a tough time with number one. The vet was very positive because she looked well, no fever and was drinking water and eating. However, deep down inside I knew something was wrong; call it sixth sense, intuition or whatever you wish to call it. In my heart I knew something was terribly wrong.

On Saturday afternoon after her sixth shot, she looked awfully sad. Her breathing was heavy although she purred whenever I went up to her to pet her and talk to her. However, she stopped eating. She also stopped waking me up at 3:30 am and stopped coming to my bed to sleep. I started to feel like we were saying goodbye, but I did not want to accept it. She was going to turn eleven the following month. I prayed for her and kept telling her to hold on, to fight this, to recover and that I was not ready for her to leave yet; after all we had been through so much in these almost eleven years.

From Saturday to Sunday, she stayed in the TV room. She did not budge. She was breathing though because I checked all the time. I tried bringing her to my room but she got up and went back to the TV room. You see the TV room is decorated in tones of blue. It is a rather soothing room. I spoke to her and prayed, she just purred. However, she did not eat nor use her sand box. My chest started to hurt. She was getting worse.

On Monday morning at 4am Cookie woke me up. It seemed like a miracle. My prayers had been answered. She went to my room, meowed and made me get up. She led me to the kitchen asking for food. I changed her food several times for all she did was go up to it, smell it and then give her back to it. So I figured that she did not appreciate the flavor, therefore, I kept changing it. But to no avail. She even went to her sand box got in but nothing came out. Then she went outside to see the sun rise. Little did I know that it would be the last time. Nonetheless we had an appointment at the vet for the last shot later on that morning.

The vet checked her and everything seemed fine except for the fact that she just laid there on the cote without moving. She did not complain nor want to go back into her carrier. My heart sunk. I asked the vet if we should run some lab tests. At the exact moment she called and made an appointment at a lab nearby. I took Cookie there and she underwent blood tests and x-rays. She complained a bit during the blood test because the vet poked her but could not get a vein. I let her have two my two cents. Just because Cookie did not meow or bite anyone, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t hurting. For the x-rays, I had to put on this heavy outfit and hold her in place. She did not fight it and it was easy.

The x-rays were ready on the spot and the blood tests results would be sent to the vet via computer by noon. I drove over to the vet and as she read the results, I swallowed my heart that had leapt to my throat. The results were either a lung tumor or pneumonia for she had water in her lungs. The initial procedure would be to remove the water in the lungs with a syringe and then redo the x-rays to check whether there really was a tumor.

As I got in the car, I couldn’t hold my tears any longer. I did not want her to suffer at all. Imagine the pain of going through a treatment because of a lung tumor. We drove home and I could hear her heavy breathing. When we got into the apartment I opened her carrier and she did not want to get out, which was awfully odd because whenever I opened the carrier door at home she would run out like a rocket. But not on this day.

I managed to get her out and she slowly walked over to the middle of the living room and drooled all over the floor. I panicked. She had never drooled like this before. She was getting worse and I kept on telling her to fight it and hold on. I placed her water bowl near her but she didn’t budge.

The phone rang at one pm and the vet said that it would be best to bring her in to have the water from the lungs removed because she was having trouble breathing and her kidneys had stopped functioning. Something was terribly wrong.

I rushed over to the vet. When the vet looked at her she mentioned that her eyes were deep and asked me how all of a sudden this had happened. I didn’t know what to say. While the vet was inserting the syringe in Cookie’s right side, she did not budge. She did not complain. The vet removed what looked like two plastic cups of beer. Yes, beer with the white foam and all. The same procedure was done on the left side, two more cups. As the vet was doing this I was sitting across from Cookie praying. Cookie just stared at me. The vet opened Cookie’s mouth and showed it to me and before she said it, I asked whether Cookie was dying. The inside of her mouth was totally black and there was a strong smell coming out of it. She just nodded. I started to cry. My little furry friend was suffering and holding on to what?

At that moment I got up from my chair and went over to pet Cookie. She was having a real tough time breathing but she never complained. What a strong cat. As I pet her head, I told her to go, to stop fighting it and just go. She meowed real loud and died. I said goodbye. Because of the spasms I was still worried that she might be suffering but the vet checked and confirmed her death. She did not say the time or anything like that, but the world became silent in that room at 5pm. It seemed like everyone was crying, which surprised me because I always thought of that vet as being a super strong woman. I was wrong. She was crying, her assistant was crying and even the people waiting in the waiting room looked sad.

For me it seemed like a hole had opened up under my feet. I was leaving the vet empty handed. For the first time in almost eleven years, I was leaving that clinic alone. The vet asked to do an autopsy to see what she died of and that she would have the bodied disposed. I sat in my car and bawled. That was the only thing I could do. I managed to call my mom to help me calm down. Then as I managed to put myself together I drove home, to an empty home.

As a result, Cookie had a heart condition no one knew of. She died of a heart attack. She seemed very healthy and never showed any symptoms. She was very strong and happy. The vet said that Cookie was very similar to her owner.

R.I.P Cookie Marion – February 20, 2003 – January 13, 2014