My last entry was on December 5, 2022. A lot has happened since then and not all of it has been positive. The following day I took my precious cat, Murphy, to my cousin who is a veterinarian. He was having trouble walking and staying upright. He would flop over and then stand again and right himself only to fall over again. My cousin gave him a steroid shot and antibiotics and after a week Murphy seemed to be fine. A little slower than usual, but since it was determined he was probably dealing with arthritis I felt that it was to be expected.

Murphy would not come out to eat as often as usual. I figured it might be due to his pain and just wanting to stay warm and rest. I would seek him out if it got to be more than a day of not eating and take him food and water. My heart wanted to hold on to the hope that he was just under the weather and he would eventually feel like his old self again.
Sadly that was not to be.

On December 27th I found Murphy completely paralyzed in my bedroom. He had tried to come out but instead was laying in the middle of the floor on a pile of laundry I had been sorting. I scooped him up and wrapped him in a towel. Money has been tight since losing my job and I knew Murphy was dying. I would have gone immediately to the Emergency Vet Clinic since it was way after normal business hours, but just walking in without any diagnostics is $500. I barely had $5. Not kidding.
I held Murphy and made him comfortable. I placed him on a pillow and laid with him until morning. Every time I would wake I would pray that he had passed while I was sleeping. He didn't.
I took him back to my cousin's practice. He was at his other location and so I asked the vet on duty to assess Murphy. They called and said they'd need to do a slew of diagnostics and that the estimate was $750. I told them I was out of work and asked if I could do a payment plan, the vet tech told me he knew I was family to my cousin but they didn't take payments. I burst into tears. He said he could contact my cousin and see what they could do. I thanked him. While he was making the call, I was messaging my cousin. He said he told them to go ahead with the blood work only and we'd know more of what was going on from that information and figure out our course of action from that point.
The blood work said Murphy was very low on potassium. The vet on duty called and said they could try to bring Murphy back by keeping him on cage rest, giving him proper IV treatments to raise his potassium and put him on a strict diet for several weeks and he would have to stay at the clinic to receive these treatments. I asked if it was a guarantee that Murphy would pull through and recover. She said there was no way to really tell but it was going to be a long road to get him "back". I told her, honestly, that money was a problem and I would make payments if that could be agreed upon. She hesitated. I asked a few more questions about possible recovery and she really couldn't give me much hope of him getting better after I forced the "be honest with me" discussion.
I told her it was time to let him go and that I wanted to be present so he'd know I didn't just dump him there in his last hours. I asked if they could make him comfortable if he was in pain. They said they would. I hung up the phone and tried to call my friend and my father, neither answered. Great. I was doing this completely alone.
My phone rang. It was the clinic. Murphy was declining rapidly and they wanted me to get there immediately. I was driving 90 in a 35. I got there just in time. He couldn't close his eyes or move his ears like he did the night before.
I stood there trying to remain calm and not cry. I didn't want him to feel anxious. I told him how wonderful he was and how I loved him with all my heart. I told him to go to the rainbow bridge and find my dog Charlie that had passed 7 months earlier. I asked him to run and play with the butterflies.

They came in and administered the lethal cocktail into his IV. Within seconds he was gone. I burst into tears and sobbed for several minutes. I leaned down to kiss him one last time and the air in his lungs expressed and startled me. I cried even more. He was only ten. Young for most cats. I felt robbed. I still do.
It has been one month and 18 days and I still cry daily. I hear his little bell from his collar at night and I wake looking for him, hoping it was all just a bad dream. Instead it is a living nightmare being without him.
My cousin thinks it was a stroke or brain tumor that was undetected.
My heart is torn to shreds.
I know many will wonder why I am so upset over "just an animal", but he was so much more to me. He was a little soul mate and we went through a lot together in our short 8 years (he was 2 when I adopted him).

I will share the story of his adoption another day. It was pretty incredible. I am just not emotionally up for it right now.

Eren's Dear Diary