Waiting ...

This was my fat and happy Sam 4 Christmas' ago. All 20 pounds of him.

This is my sad, thin kitty today. 12 years old. Clinging to 9 pounds. He actually doesn't look this bad. Just a bad angle:) So, I took my sweet cat to the vet today. 

He has been peeing on everything. Towels, clothes ... if it lands on the floor or the counter you can safely assume that he has unceremoniously urinated on it. It is getting a little tedious, and quite frankly, I can't keep up with all the laundry. He no longer uses his litter box anymore and other than peeing on "stuff" he goes in the hall shower. It constantly smells of bleach. (I know, it's gross ... but amazing :) It has a shadow and it's vertical!

I'm not complaining, really I'm not. I know he's old and sick and can't help it. I guess being upset about it is me transferring my feelings about him dying to something I can handle. Like ... poop in the shower. I can handle poop in the shower, but thinking of Sampson dying breaks my heart.

I took him to the vet today to see if he had a bladder infection or something that might need for him to be on medication that would stop all the peeing. He eats and drinks constantly. Constantly. A scrap of food on a plate or a cup of water on the counter (or the toilet seat up) he will indulge. 

They did some tests and confirmed that he does in fact have cancer, a large tumor in his throat (that is sadly quite visible) and newly diagnosed diabetes. Ugh.

Shit.

The diabetes is giving him all the bladder problems, but medicating him (which I wouldn't do ... 2 shots a day is no life for a cat) actually makes his cancer worse anyway. There are no good scenarios. Ultimately, she said that he will get more and more lethargic, but once he starts vomiting he will be in crisis and should be put down. Ideally, before the vomiting starts. His decline will be "terrible". She said he has about a month. A month would be generous. As we were leaving the vet, the nurse came out to the parking lot to offer us some diabetes cat food. As she went back into the office, Devon called out,"Hey! Thanks for taking such good care of Sam!" in his big guy voice. She was visibly touched and said,"You're welcome."

I am so sad that my sweet Sammy Sam will not have a death fitting of his life. Not that we get a choice, but still ... there are good deaths and bad deaths. Having to decide to put down my friend, my baby-before-I-had-babies has me in knots. I feel like I am just waiting for him to die. Rather, waiting for him to decline "enough". I miss him already. 

Fuck.