I May Never Be a Lap Cat

I love this poem. I repost it in hopes that those reading it might reach out to a cat in need of help.

I may never be a lap cat,

Or one who comes when called.

I may resist the hand that tries to touch

And some may think I’m flawed.

I may prefer my freedom,

To your warm and cozy house.

I may reject her bowl of food, 

And settle for a mouse.

But the box you put out for me,

Feels safe and warm and dry.

And I raised my eyes to thank you,

As you go walking by.

I eat the food you give me.

I listen for your voice. 

I may never be a lap cat,

But you offer me the choice.

One day, I’ll see the winter.

One day, I’ll see the rain

I may grow old, not knowing

That there is freedom from this pain.

But I know you tried to help me.

And although my days will end.

I may never be your cat, 

But I know you were my friend.

~ Unknown ~

A Little Bit of the Old Kota

For a tiny glimmer of a moment, Kota has returned to me. I’m not sure what brought on this sudden burst of energy, but we embraced it.

He had been laying down most of the morning. Uninterested in food, didn’t want to go outside; doing a lot of heavy panting, and showing multiple signs of discomfort.

I’m letting him call the shots now. Not asking him to do anything that he’s not willing or able to do. Rising from my chair to go in the kitchen to get a glass of water, as I passed by him, he woke up and grabbed his tug-toy. He ran by me and went to the back door.

I followed him. We went outside and briefly we had our time together. It was only two tosses in the air, and one strong tug from him and it was game on. Alas, it was over in an instant. 

It seemed to dawn on him that things are now different. He dropped to the ground, settling his stomach on the coolness of the grass. He did a few back scratches however, when he did his belly roll. Things were different instead of bringing him joy, it brought him to pain.

We called it good and went back inside,  I’m hoping that next time this happens, it will be a longer period to enjoy together without it ending in pain.

Kota: Time Will Tell

Since Kota’s “agitated liver” diagnosis has been made, he’s returned to his liver support pills. His belly, due to the malfunction of his liver, has really been bothering him. He used to wake me up two or three times at night to go potty. Now, it’s increased between seven to ten times. He will not go potty but what he does is lay in the grass. When he lays in the grass, he will stretch his front legs completely out as far as you can, and his head will settle between his legs. His back legs will be stretched out all the way behind him with his paws exposed. He is trying to reach the fire in his belly and put it out.

What you see in the picture below is he is laying on what they call a Summer Ice Pad for dogs. The purpose of this pad is to keep the dog’s body cool in the summer-time.

For him, he will not get off of it even in the coolest of weather. Speaking of cool, the cats think this is the neatest thing they’ve ever seen. Flash will pull it off of the dog bed, then dive underneath it. And she will wait, baiting the others until they come along and attack her.

At this point, Kota comes over to me. I can just see it in his eyes: he’s asking me, “Mom! Help me!” Then I go over and break up their game of hide and seek, restore order, and put the pad back on top of the dog bed. It’s a game we play daily. More than once or twice a day. Honestly, I’ve lost count how many times I’ve had to break up this game of hide and seek.

The pad brings him such great relief. Having it here has also cut down the number of times where he interrupts my sleep so he can go outside and sleep in the wet grass.

He is showing intense signs of nausea: yawning, lip-licking, blanket licking. He will be sleeping, and suddenly he will whip his head around and look directly down at his stomach and then just start licking his tummy. So now I have him on Prilosec.

I have been doing a lot of self-reflective thought, along with filling my days up with prayer. I have reached a decision, one that was extremely difficult to make. If his levels do not decrease or if they increase, instead of going ahead with a very invasive biopsy, I will instead just let go and let God take care of him. I will allow Kota to be a dog, until he decides he doesn’t want to be a dog any longer. That’s when I will take him in and spend the last moments of his life with him before they let him go.

Even if I had the money for this very invasive surgery, I wouldn’t put him through that. The recovery time is hard. There’s a chance he could die on the table. There’s a chance that all kinds of things could go wrong. It’s not a chance I want to take.

Don’t get me wrong: I love this dog more than life. Half of my heart broke when Michael left. When Kota leaves, the other half of my heart will go with him.

I am at peace with my decision. I am praying that his levels will go down and normalize. But if they are still elevated within three months, I may even just take him off the medication. It’s getting increasingly harder to recognize him based on his behavior since this diagnosis. I hardly recognize him anymore. I am having to learn what his new “tells” are: how he shows me he’s in pain, how he displays his need to go outside and go potty. All of it has changed.

When people come to visit, he no longer runs to the door to greet them. I find him during the day, just staring blankly at the wall or the door. If I stand behind him and clap, my hands, he will not respond. If I stand in front of him, he will not break the stare. Even the presence of his tennis ball will not stop his trance-like state. I just have to wait it out. Time will tell.