A Farewell

This is one of those posts I hate to write, even two months after the fact. It still hurts.

I had noticed back in September that Nokea, fondly referred to as Chonky around our house, wasn't doing too well. I took him in to the vet. We opted to treat him conservatively for what we could tell was

immediately wrong: he was off his feed a little and just wasn't himself. He may have caught a virus. A stool sample told us that he (and probably everybody sharing a litterbox) had roundworm. We treated everyone aggressively for that. Nokea fought the treatments harder than the others, but I'm a stubborn cat mom. I might have dewormed the carpet a little but he got the brunt of the medication.

But I noticed he didn't clean it off his face.

And his white coat had become dull. He wasn't taking care of himself.

I checked. He'd lost weight since we'd seen the vet two weeks ago.

I took in the Small One for his checkup so he could be scheduled for neuter surgery (I also don't mess around), mentioned Nokea's worsening symptoms to the vet, and scheduled another appointment for Chonky in four weeks. It was the soonest I could get in that wasn't "emergent." And I scheduled Kahi for his surgery.

I worried the whole way home that Nokea wouldn't make it that long...or that I couldn't go that long without acting.

I was right to worry.

I checked his weight again another week or so later, and in the space of four and a half weeks since his vet visit when I first took him in, he'd lost four pounds. That's a lot of weight for a cat who only weighs 13 pounds or so to start with. That Sunday I texted my boss (a very understanding lady) and said I had to get my cat in to the vet as soon as I could on Monday. I wangled a 10:40 appointment.

The kids were all aware of how dire the situation was. Oldest graduated back in June, and does not have a job, so she was free to go with me to the vet. Youngest didn't want to miss school, but also didn't want to really be there if the worst had to happen. Middle, by contrast, did.

I pulled Middle out of school, citing a family emergency. I knew this was bad. She, Oldest, Nokea, and I drove to the vet.

Dr. W. was very concerned as I laid out the symptoms. Nokea had lost more weight than I thought. He was down to 6 pounds. I okayed bloodwork, to check for all kinds of functional values, and the scary things: FIV, feline leukemia, feline panleukopenia. And we waited.

The results were not pretty. His liver values were way off, and it was in danger of failing. Initial reports didn't suggest FIV, but the final results came back positive for the disease. FIV is feline immunodeficiency virus; like HIV, there is no cure. There were lots of supportive things we could have done, hospitalization, diet changes, subcutaneous fluids, and it all might have worked. Might. There was no guarantee.

My heart broke as I chose to be merciful to our feline friend who had shown us nothing but love and kindness from the day he entered our home.

Dr. W. allowed us to take things at our own pace. She put in a catheter so she wouldn't have to stick Nokea twice. She let Middle hold him while she administered the drugs that would let him drift off and fly to Jesus. And I do believe that's exactly where he went when he left us.

I called friends to help me dig the hole in the back yard that night so we could lay him to rest.

And the next night I found the perfect flagstone to mark his burial site in our yard.

Nokea Oreo, you will forever be missed. No one greets me at the door like you did (for you greeted everyone at our door for four and a half years). Thank you for teaching Kahi how to cat before you needed to leave us.