Oh, cats.

Let me start by saying there is a happy ending to this story.  A small, harrowing tale comes first.  A couple of weeks ago I threw several of you for a loop by telling nice stories and then dropping a “Hey – and then it turns out this guy died” bomb in a post and I don’t want to do that.

I make her take a lot of photos with me.

Quinn.  My first “born.”  My baby cat. The reason I can say I’ve slept on every floor in every house I’ve had since the day we brought her home.  She would get scared and hide behind appliances or toilets and I would sleep on the floor the first night or two until she came out.  I picked her.  Colin had a different kitten when we went to pick one up and I insisted on her.  She was so tiny!  She was the runt, had been bottle fed back at a foster family’s home because she was so small and was just brought to the shelter that morning.  They called her Princess.  I knew this was my cat.

I got antlers on her for about one minute last Christmas!

Quinn, whom when I left for Chicago back in 2009 I left with my ex-husband.  It was the right thing to do.  When I moved back to St. Louis and into this apartment 6 months later – he gave her to me.  It was the right thing to do then also, he traveled a lot and she was getting lonely.

Baby girl sleeps with me.

Let me get to today.  For the last several days I’ve noticed her wheezing and heaving.  I thought she was just working out a hairball and didn’t think much of it.  Thursday morning I made sure she was eating by giving her some treats and she seemed okay so I let it go another day, always coming straight home to check on her.  The heaving was more consistent and her voice was raspy.  Friday night she was not interested in food and was more lethargic.  My concern was growing.  This afternoon I got home from my last afternoon working the chocolate shop and went straight into my room to find her.  One look at her and I knew we were going to a doctor.  Laugh all you’d like, I could look at her and know something was wrong.  I felt she was looking at me with a face that said, “What else do I need to do to demonstrate I’m sick?!”  I called the clinic and told them we were on our way.

Important to note that even sick she fought getting into her carrier with everything she had.  Too bad, Quinn.  We got to the vet and they examined her and felt around and decided to take X-rays.  I stayed until those were developed and the doctor showed me the scans.  It’s clear that her stomach and small intestine are 2.5 times the size they should be.  There is a blockage in her intestine and this is not good.  The vet says she would like to wait for confirmation from the radiologist, but the chances are Quinn needs to have surgery.  She explains what they’ll do and what the risks are and that it should be straightforward but there could be complications, etc.  I agree that surgery is what we should do.  The doc says she’ll have a tech come out and give me an explanation of the surgery estimate.  I wait a little longer there and then am presented with a surgery estimate.

Quinn with last years Christmas tree

Surgery can cost anywhere from $1500 – $2400.

I know pet owners who believe there is a number where surgery or treatments for an animal aren’t worth it and just putting them down is the right answer.  My baby Quinn is 6.5 years old and the outlook was positive on this procedure.  So, I don’t know what that number is, but for me, clearly this wasn’t it.  I called Colin to tell him what was going on and he seconded my decision – he said if it was a matter of me needing more money for the surgery – he’d help foot the bill.  Neither one of us were willing to say Quinn wasn’t worth every penny.

Look at that belly!

Having made the decision, all there is to do is to leave her in the clinic’s care, think positive and be hopeful.  I may wig out and get over emotional about some things, but when there’s real crisis – I’m good.  I’m strong and calm and rational like at no other time.  There’s no sense in worrying until I hear more from the surgeon, so until that time, I trust they’re doing their best.

Quinn loves a windowsill

Meanwhile, it’s Christmas Eve, so I head to my grandmother’s house and wait on a phone call from the doctor.  Which I get.  Doc says, Good News!  The radiologist doesn’t think surgery is the first option.  They think the blockage can pass with some more fluids, as Quinn is dehydrated, and, well, kitty laxatives.  That’s their first course of action anyway.  She says they’d like to watch her overnight and they’ll call me in the morning to see how she’s doing.

YAY!

My princess cat.

I pass on the good news and enjoy the rest of the evening with the family.

Here is my conundrum.  Quinn and new cat, Oliver, are still not getting along.  See all these great pictures of Quinn?  I used to take photos of her all the time because she was relaxed and around and wanted to nap where I was napping and waited for me to get home from work and let me pet her and pick her up, etc.  Ever since Oliver the Interloper has come to be, she is anxious and avoids where he is, which is often where I am as well.  Even when I can pick her up she’s always on the lookout for Oliver.  The only time we still have is bedtime.  I keep Oliver out of my bedroom and Quinn and I still have some together time where she gets all of my attention.

I thought after almost 7 months there would be less tension.  There have been improvements.  Small ones.  They can sleep on the same bed now or nap on contiguous couch cushions.  Oliver is getting bigger and seems to be tormenting her more.  At times I think it’s good for Quinn to have environmental stimulation like this.  Other times I think Quinn was born to, and really misses, her spoiled rotten only child days.

My ex-husband Colin doesn’t travel for work any longer.  I know he misses Quinn.  His phone wallpaper is still a picture of her.  I found that out and some of my strong dislike for some of the things he’s done over the past year and a half melted away a little.

If you’ve stayed with me through this post about cat memories and stories of surgeries that weren’t, here’s the question: For the potential quality of life improvement for both cat and ex-husband – should I give custody of Quinn back to Colin?  I love her and would miss her, but I really do think she’s unhappy with Oliver.

Of course…I would have to then get another cat for Oliver to play with.  He loves a friend.