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May. 17th, 2022 01:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raincitygirlSavannah Weaver
May 1, 2009 (approx) to May 15, 2022
I adopted Savannah at the very beginning of December 2009, when she had just turned 7 months old. She had been trapped at a feral colony as a fairly old kitten, so she was VERY wild. Feral kittens are usually kitten-napped when they’re tiny, and get handled constantly by their foster parents to get them used to humans. Savannah was pretty darn feral, by contrast. I adopted her, rather than any of the other kittens the shelter had, because she seemed like the kitten least likely to be adopted by someone else. It wasn't because she liked me and had "chosen" me (she was thoroughly scared of me).
The shelter advised to put her in the bathroom for the first 24 hours, with food and water and a litter tray. They said she’d be less intimidated by a small, enclosed space she could explore at her leisure. Even after the first 24 hours was up, she had not yet left the bathtub. I went 3 days without showering because I didn’t want to disturb the kitten hunkered down in the tub. Finally my need for cleanliness overcame my desire not to disturb Savannah. She cowered behind the toilet while I showered. I was starting to wonder if she’d EVER leave the bathroom.
About a week after I brought her home, she jumped on the bed with me after I’d turned out all the lights. Maybe she figured if she couldn’t see the scary human, the scary human wouldn’t know she was there. I lay very still as she explored all the way around the bed, sniffing at my pyjamas, my hands, my hair. It took about another week for her to let me pet her in bed, in the dark. She’d startle away, then come back, submit hesitantly to petting, and purr like a motorboat. Within a few more weeks, she was basically tame….but only with me. Whenever another human entered the apartment, she’d vanish until after they were gone. My family joked that Savannah was a figment of my imagination. There was a litter box, there was food and water, there were toys, but never an actual cat to be seen.
She gradually mellowed with age, but affection was still always on her terms. You couldn’t pick her up, had to coax her to jump up on the couch or the bed for cuddles. There was a small and select group of people she would show herself in front of. She rarely let them pet her, and she’d usually hiss when they got near, but she didn’t run away and hide from them. A few months ago she started taking treats from hands that weren’t mine. In retrospect, I should’ve realized she was sick, just from that uncharacteristic behaviour.
It was very sudden. She had a pre-dental exam and blood tests at the very end of March 2022, and the vet didn’t find anything worrisome. Then she had the general anaesthetic and the dental work on April 20, and again, she seemed fine, both to me and to the vet clinic staff. Terrified, but Savannah was ALWAYS terrified of going to the vet. On April 22, my friend Katherine came over and I held Savannah down while she cut off a bandage with nail scissors. Savannah was furious, and struggled vigorously, not at all like a cat who’d need to be euthanized 3 weeks later. She’d come home from the vet with a bandage wound around the paw they’d used for the IV, saying it would just fall off on its own. It didn’t, and I needed both hands to hold her still in order for someone else to unwind or cut the bandage off.
In late April and early May she seemed…subdued. I put it down to the recent vet visit for dental work, and wasn’t too worried. She was still eating, drinking, pooping, and purring when I petted her. She wasn’t jumping up on the bed any longer to aggressively cuddle me, and I wondered if she might have an injury to her back legs. She’d tried to jump up on the bed as usual on April 20, a few hours after I got her home, and went splat on the hardwood. I called the vet clinic and they said she was probably just groggy from the anaesthetic still. After that she seemed like she wanted up on the bed. She’d come close and meow at me, but she wouldn’t ever let me pick her up and put her on the bed. Picking her up was a trigger for her, and she would flail around with her claws, and sometimes pee herself. I didn’t want her peeing on my bed, so I put a dining chair and a Rubbermaid step next to the bed so she could jump up in stages.
Then I started to notice her spine seeming bonier than usual. Also her shoulder blades and back hips. She still had a big tummy, though, so at first I thought maybe the weight was just redistributing itself. I made an appointment for Sunday, May 8 just to get her checked out. I wasn’t really worried, but I figured she should see the vet. Then I called back and switched the appointment to Sunday, May 15.
My mother couldn’t drive us to the vet on May 8, but could on May 15, which would save the price of 2 taxis. Plus, the only appointment they’d had left for May 8 was 9 am, and I didn’t want to get up that early on a Sunday. And she didn’t seem so sick she needed the vet urgently. Yeah, she was subdued, yeah, she was bony, but she was still eating. Really the only behaviour that had changed was she wouldn’t get up on the bed anymore, and I wanted to give it another week to see if the makeshift pet stairs would be a good workaround.
On May 15, the vet gave her a physical exam, and felt something hard in Savannah’s abdomen. Dr M said it might just be constipation causing balls of hard feces in her intestines. She said an X-ray would tell us more. I still wasn’t too worried, as constipation is treatable. I suggested X-raying her hindquarters as well as her abdomen. I was still working on the hypothesis that she might have an injury to her back legs or hips. Dr M said let’s do the abdominal X-ray first, and worry about her hips and legs later. Dr M took Savannah into the back, and I texted my mum, who was at the grocery store next door to the clinic, saying we might be a while. And could she please pick up a bag of baby carrots for me.
About 10 minutes later, Dr M came back in, alone. She said she had very bad news, and I got a sinking feeling. Then she showed me the X-rays, with a very large lump of white in her abdomen. That was a tumour, she explained. She’d also taken an X-ray of Savannah’s lungs, and they were starting to fill up with fluid. If I wanted more time with her to say goodbye, they’d need to drain the fluid from her lungs to stabilize her. Obviously I didn’t want her to be in pain any longer than she had to be, and I was bitterly regretting having postponed the visit a week. I said let’s give her pain meds right away, then euthanize her. Dr M said that was the kindest choice.
The vet tech went through the paperwork with me, everything I needed to sign, and brought the card reader into the exam room so I could pay. Which I was grateful for, because the thought of settling up after, in the waiting room in front of people, didn’t sound appealing. I was in tears at that point. Once it was all done, Dr M came back in with Savannah in her arms, wrapped in a fluffy green towel. That’s when it really hit me, because Savannah never lets people carry her in their arms. The vet tech hung a blanket with a dog print over the surface of the exam table, and then the vet put her on it, still wrapped up in the towel. She looked groggy, so they must have already given her the pain meds before they brought her in.
It's a 2 injection process, the first to sedate her so heavily she’d lose consciousness. Then, once the vet was sure she was sound asleep and wouldn’t wake up, the kill shot. I was stroking Savannah from the moment they put her on the table, but I was crying too hard to say anything. Fortunately Dr M spoke to her very gently the whole time, telling Savannah she was such a good girl and a special girl. It wasn’t my familiar voice, which would have been optimal, but at least there was A soothing voice during the short period before she lost consciousness.
And then my mum texted saying she’d found baby carrots for me, and was in the checkout line. Had they taken Savannah in for the X-rays yet? Should she put more money in the parking meter? I realized there’d only been an 18 minute gap in between me blithely asking Mum for baby carrots, still thinking Savannah would be fine after the X-rays, and her death.
In retrospect, I wouldn’t have postponed the visit by a week. I will probably turn into a compulsive vet-goer with Houdini (my other cat), every time he seems even a little bit out of sorts. But Savannah didn’t seem THAT sick. She ate some breakfast Sunday morning (May 15). Later she went and curled up at the base of the cat tree. I squatted down and petted her, and she purred for about a minute before settling in for a nap and starting to ignore me. She was lethargic, certainly, and I was glad she was seeing the vet that afternoon, but she didn’t seem at death’s door. If I had it to do over, I would absolutely have gotten up early and taken her in on May 8 by taxi. But I’m trying not to beat myself up over it too much. Hindsight is 20/20, and all that.
May 1, 2009 (approx) to May 15, 2022
I adopted Savannah at the very beginning of December 2009, when she had just turned 7 months old. She had been trapped at a feral colony as a fairly old kitten, so she was VERY wild. Feral kittens are usually kitten-napped when they’re tiny, and get handled constantly by their foster parents to get them used to humans. Savannah was pretty darn feral, by contrast. I adopted her, rather than any of the other kittens the shelter had, because she seemed like the kitten least likely to be adopted by someone else. It wasn't because she liked me and had "chosen" me (she was thoroughly scared of me).
The shelter advised to put her in the bathroom for the first 24 hours, with food and water and a litter tray. They said she’d be less intimidated by a small, enclosed space she could explore at her leisure. Even after the first 24 hours was up, she had not yet left the bathtub. I went 3 days without showering because I didn’t want to disturb the kitten hunkered down in the tub. Finally my need for cleanliness overcame my desire not to disturb Savannah. She cowered behind the toilet while I showered. I was starting to wonder if she’d EVER leave the bathroom.
About a week after I brought her home, she jumped on the bed with me after I’d turned out all the lights. Maybe she figured if she couldn’t see the scary human, the scary human wouldn’t know she was there. I lay very still as she explored all the way around the bed, sniffing at my pyjamas, my hands, my hair. It took about another week for her to let me pet her in bed, in the dark. She’d startle away, then come back, submit hesitantly to petting, and purr like a motorboat. Within a few more weeks, she was basically tame….but only with me. Whenever another human entered the apartment, she’d vanish until after they were gone. My family joked that Savannah was a figment of my imagination. There was a litter box, there was food and water, there were toys, but never an actual cat to be seen.
She gradually mellowed with age, but affection was still always on her terms. You couldn’t pick her up, had to coax her to jump up on the couch or the bed for cuddles. There was a small and select group of people she would show herself in front of. She rarely let them pet her, and she’d usually hiss when they got near, but she didn’t run away and hide from them. A few months ago she started taking treats from hands that weren’t mine. In retrospect, I should’ve realized she was sick, just from that uncharacteristic behaviour.
It was very sudden. She had a pre-dental exam and blood tests at the very end of March 2022, and the vet didn’t find anything worrisome. Then she had the general anaesthetic and the dental work on April 20, and again, she seemed fine, both to me and to the vet clinic staff. Terrified, but Savannah was ALWAYS terrified of going to the vet. On April 22, my friend Katherine came over and I held Savannah down while she cut off a bandage with nail scissors. Savannah was furious, and struggled vigorously, not at all like a cat who’d need to be euthanized 3 weeks later. She’d come home from the vet with a bandage wound around the paw they’d used for the IV, saying it would just fall off on its own. It didn’t, and I needed both hands to hold her still in order for someone else to unwind or cut the bandage off.
In late April and early May she seemed…subdued. I put it down to the recent vet visit for dental work, and wasn’t too worried. She was still eating, drinking, pooping, and purring when I petted her. She wasn’t jumping up on the bed any longer to aggressively cuddle me, and I wondered if she might have an injury to her back legs. She’d tried to jump up on the bed as usual on April 20, a few hours after I got her home, and went splat on the hardwood. I called the vet clinic and they said she was probably just groggy from the anaesthetic still. After that she seemed like she wanted up on the bed. She’d come close and meow at me, but she wouldn’t ever let me pick her up and put her on the bed. Picking her up was a trigger for her, and she would flail around with her claws, and sometimes pee herself. I didn’t want her peeing on my bed, so I put a dining chair and a Rubbermaid step next to the bed so she could jump up in stages.
Then I started to notice her spine seeming bonier than usual. Also her shoulder blades and back hips. She still had a big tummy, though, so at first I thought maybe the weight was just redistributing itself. I made an appointment for Sunday, May 8 just to get her checked out. I wasn’t really worried, but I figured she should see the vet. Then I called back and switched the appointment to Sunday, May 15.
My mother couldn’t drive us to the vet on May 8, but could on May 15, which would save the price of 2 taxis. Plus, the only appointment they’d had left for May 8 was 9 am, and I didn’t want to get up that early on a Sunday. And she didn’t seem so sick she needed the vet urgently. Yeah, she was subdued, yeah, she was bony, but she was still eating. Really the only behaviour that had changed was she wouldn’t get up on the bed anymore, and I wanted to give it another week to see if the makeshift pet stairs would be a good workaround.
On May 15, the vet gave her a physical exam, and felt something hard in Savannah’s abdomen. Dr M said it might just be constipation causing balls of hard feces in her intestines. She said an X-ray would tell us more. I still wasn’t too worried, as constipation is treatable. I suggested X-raying her hindquarters as well as her abdomen. I was still working on the hypothesis that she might have an injury to her back legs or hips. Dr M said let’s do the abdominal X-ray first, and worry about her hips and legs later. Dr M took Savannah into the back, and I texted my mum, who was at the grocery store next door to the clinic, saying we might be a while. And could she please pick up a bag of baby carrots for me.
About 10 minutes later, Dr M came back in, alone. She said she had very bad news, and I got a sinking feeling. Then she showed me the X-rays, with a very large lump of white in her abdomen. That was a tumour, she explained. She’d also taken an X-ray of Savannah’s lungs, and they were starting to fill up with fluid. If I wanted more time with her to say goodbye, they’d need to drain the fluid from her lungs to stabilize her. Obviously I didn’t want her to be in pain any longer than she had to be, and I was bitterly regretting having postponed the visit a week. I said let’s give her pain meds right away, then euthanize her. Dr M said that was the kindest choice.
The vet tech went through the paperwork with me, everything I needed to sign, and brought the card reader into the exam room so I could pay. Which I was grateful for, because the thought of settling up after, in the waiting room in front of people, didn’t sound appealing. I was in tears at that point. Once it was all done, Dr M came back in with Savannah in her arms, wrapped in a fluffy green towel. That’s when it really hit me, because Savannah never lets people carry her in their arms. The vet tech hung a blanket with a dog print over the surface of the exam table, and then the vet put her on it, still wrapped up in the towel. She looked groggy, so they must have already given her the pain meds before they brought her in.
It's a 2 injection process, the first to sedate her so heavily she’d lose consciousness. Then, once the vet was sure she was sound asleep and wouldn’t wake up, the kill shot. I was stroking Savannah from the moment they put her on the table, but I was crying too hard to say anything. Fortunately Dr M spoke to her very gently the whole time, telling Savannah she was such a good girl and a special girl. It wasn’t my familiar voice, which would have been optimal, but at least there was A soothing voice during the short period before she lost consciousness.
And then my mum texted saying she’d found baby carrots for me, and was in the checkout line. Had they taken Savannah in for the X-rays yet? Should she put more money in the parking meter? I realized there’d only been an 18 minute gap in between me blithely asking Mum for baby carrots, still thinking Savannah would be fine after the X-rays, and her death.
In retrospect, I wouldn’t have postponed the visit by a week. I will probably turn into a compulsive vet-goer with Houdini (my other cat), every time he seems even a little bit out of sorts. But Savannah didn’t seem THAT sick. She ate some breakfast Sunday morning (May 15). Later she went and curled up at the base of the cat tree. I squatted down and petted her, and she purred for about a minute before settling in for a nap and starting to ignore me. She was lethargic, certainly, and I was glad she was seeing the vet that afternoon, but she didn’t seem at death’s door. If I had it to do over, I would absolutely have gotten up early and taken her in on May 8 by taxi. But I’m trying not to beat myself up over it too much. Hindsight is 20/20, and all that.
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Date: 2022-05-25 10:20 pm (UTC)