Now it’s Tig’s turn

The Independent Republic of Tiggerstan’s borders have been shrinking. I figured that out, but I didn’t realize how much. He’s lost four pounds.

Before

I brought him to the vet today because he’s been losing weight and acting strangely for some time now. They took blood, and it took a while, and then they scared me into thinking he was dehydrated, but that was because the assistant had him scruffed, upside down, and was pulling his skin tight so he couldn’t slash the vet while he drew blood. (I was very impressed with the vet’s assistant. I’ve never seen Tig more controlled in a vet’s office. Although part of that might be weakness from whatever is ailing him. However, once he was finished and went into the cage, he tried to turn around and hiss and scratch us, so he’s not dead yet.)

After

The bloodwork should be back tomorrow or Saturday. I’m going to try to feed Tig a ton between now and then, and then some. Time to break out the canned cat food again. I have some Fancy Feast tuna in the pantry from when Gracie was ill. Tig just got about half a can. And he’s looking for more.

Good.

Wow. I knew he was losing weight. I had no idea he lost that much. Stupid long fur. I should have trusted my instinct, which said he felt lighter and lighter and lighter. When Gracie started feeling heavier than Tig, I realized it was time to talk to the vet. Now I feel like a horrible pet owner because I didn’t do anything until he’d already lost four pounds.

I hate that my parents installed those damned guilt complexes into me. I’ve been keeping an eye on him for months. First I thought he might be diabetic, so I watched his water intake, convinced myself he was, then realized I was being paranoid, and that he was drinking normally. Then I noticed he was losing weight, but thought that due to the upheaval of the last few months (especially the lead-up to my bat mitzvah, the housecleaning and rearranging, and my frequent overnight trips to Northern VA these days), that he was just upset because he’s a cat, and cats like routine. Now that I’ve finally confirmed his weight loss, I feel like I should have taken him to the vet weeks ago. Even though when Sarah confirmed to me that he’d lost weight, we didn’t know how much, and Tig was still pretty much asymptomatic except for the weight loss. No vomiting, nothing weird in the litterbox, and just odd behavior from time to time. But overall, a happy kitty.

Stupid guilt complex. The only way I won’t blame myself is if there’s nothing wrong with him. But between his long fur, his being overweight to begin with, and the fact that he was still running around as usual outside, jumping on the bathroom sink for a drink, and doing his usual Tig things, it was hard to tell how much weight he’d lost. And last night, he finally started sleeping in the bed again once I removed the extra pillow. (See, that’s the weird behavior I’m talking about. He’s gotten very strange over certain things in certain places in certain rooms.) So I had a purring Tig next to me most of the night. Which is why I didn’t think there was anything really wrong with him.

I’ll stop now. Tig is sleeping off his vet trip and tuna. Three feet away from me, as usual.

Update Friday 12:30 p.m.: It’s kidney failure. There are medications and diet changes I can make, and the vet says Tig could go for another few years. But he could also be gone in two weeks.

Well, this sucks.