Glad He is With Me

It may be repetitious, and is certainly disheartening, to chronicle the diminution of my friend, Parker. But, for both him and myself, I think I need to record his last weeks. And, indeed, I feel that his last weeks have come.

Two or three times now, I have felt that he has taken a definite step downward in his fight against his cancer. Though difficult to describe, I could tell each time that something had occurred to change his abilities, both to resist his illness and his means of dealing with it. Another descent was made this past weekend.

Parker is moving very slowly now, and there is a brittleness to his actions. He is eating less, though still more than I would have expected a cat in his condition to eat. He has been eating Hounds and Gatos pork for some time. It is, I believe, a good food, and he still appears to like it. However, he has twice since Saturday turned away from it. I have substituted Fancy Feast chicken-and-liver, and this he accepted at those times. I have a wide variety of brands and flavours with which to tempt him when he finally discards these favourites. Since his illness became known, he has rejected several varieties of food, and not gone back to them. I dread the day that he refuses everything. But this morning, he consumed a third of a 5.5 ounce tin of food; not bad, considering his situation.

Strangely, his nutrition does not seem to be effected by his periodic and violent vomiting. He throws up so much that if it contained as much food as other debris, he would have starved to death by now. His wretching is so fierce that it leaves him panting. I was lucky last night to note the signs of an approaching episode, and was able to put him in front of a box lid, one of several I keep around the apartment for the cats’ amusement and comfort, and for such emergencies. Though he is eating and the food is doing him good, Parker is losing weight, and his body is sinking, due to the weight and size of the tumour.

On the advice of a knowledgeable friend, I have increased Puck’s Prednisolone dosage from a quarter-tablet a day to a half. I hope this will have a positive effect on any discomfort he may be feeling. So far, he has eaten his food with the crushed pill hidden inside it. The medicine, fortunately, has little or no taste.

He has been asking for attention a little more lately, and when I cook or wash the dishes, he often lies against my feet. I try to spend time with him when he asks for it, sitting on the floor with him, talking to him and petting him. Then, he will decide that he’s had enough and move away. He’s never been an overly sentimental fellow.

But I am glad that he is with me at such a time. It is discouraging and frustrating, maddening and tiring, and always sad, but I am glad he is with me. Because some day, probably soon, he won’t be.