Update: Our boy fought so hard all week. We are so proud of him, but we lost him on the morning of February 25th. We love you, Avery. You gave us so much in the short time you had. You were always the most affectionate cat, as if you knew that you had to get it all out early. You supported us through such dark times, and we will never forget how special and dear you were in life, and still are as your energy dissipates into the universe.
------
I'd say the unthinkable happened, but the truth is we have always thought about this. It has lived as a needling anxiety in the back of our minds.
Every owner of a mixed dog/cat household knows what I'm talking about when I say it's your worst nightmare when it comes to your children. As much as you love them, as careful as you are, as well-behaved and companionably they get along, there’s a worry that, what if, one day, one of your babies harms another?
Our cats and dogs have always kept a respectable distance from one another, and when we moved to our new home in 2020, they all lavished in their newfound space and enjoyed their separate domains. Dogs: downstairs and outside. Cats: upstairs and any high vantage point.
But then, this past Saturday, a door that is normally latched was… not.
My wife and I left for an errand and came back to unsettled barking– upstairs.
The problem with these kinds of things is that you never know what you’re dealing with at the outset.
In spite of the odds and a “very concerning” prognosis, Avery managed to achieve a tenuous stability over the next six hours, which was crucial as he needed to be transferred from the emergency clinic to the nearby hospital.
He was already showing the signs of being a true fighter. So we gave him a shot– and he flourished. He won the hearts of doctors and nurses, showing affection and rolling over to ask for belly rubs.
After about 48 hours in the ICU, we were even uplifted by the mention of possibly being able to bring him home that night or the next morning– but here, our story takes a turn.
We had been so careful about guarding our hearts, manifesting healing and love for him and imagining a bright future, but holding hope close to our chests in case the worst happened.
With staggering swiftness, Monday’s lab work dashed our hope to pieces as our promising baby boy became a near-catatonic cat whose vitals were everywhere they should not be. The next 12 hours were full of agonizing waits, a sleepless night, a meal that was really just Starbucks, a harrowing hospital transfer, and hours trying to figure out what came next– what could we do to give our boy the best possible chances to pull through again?
Right now, the answer is: surgery. So I’m finally home again, waiting for a call from the surgeon, who told me he anticipated calling me from the operating room– hopefully, with answers and a brighter future ahead.
