Husband: “I just feel like I need a kale salad.”
Me: “Why, you want to punish yourself?”
Husband: “Yeah, I think so.”
Our cat Lettuce passed away. She was 19 years old and medically fragile, but she took us by surprise. Hours before she died she was chasing us around the apartment demanding her dinner.
The other cat, Twilight (“Floor Boss”), was very, very sad. She spent about a week sadly laying in my husband’s office leaning against her favorite water bowl, staring into my office, where Lettuce used to sleep.
Twilight’s always been a bit pukey, but we got concerned when she started playing with her mouth and vomiting up traces of pink a few months ago. We’ve been working through the diagnostic tree with our vets for a minute now (foreign object, ulcers, allergy, etc). Twilight responded well to sucraflate, so we thought stress ulcers (due to Lettuce’s failing health) and she was on the mend. Then she doubled down on the puking, so we got an ultrasound. Thickened stomach. We opted to have an endoscope and biopsy done. 95% of the time it’s going to be either IBD or small cell lymphoma. IBD is management, and small cell generally responds well to chemo and you can get another 18 – 24 good months. Maybe even remission.
Whelp, we just got the results back and we drew the f’ing 2020 short straw: large cell lymphoma. Now it’s months. Maybe weeks.
Twilight is still shiny, perky, and still obsessed with shower water. She’s the sweetest, most loving cat. There will never be another like her.
It’s a kale salad day.