(no subject)

I seriously had my doubts Symba would still be with us when I got up this morning...

Last night I heard quiet crying that sounded like it came from outside. I was puzzled, but didn't think anything of it since as far as I knew Sym was dozing under one of my chairs. Then I heard it again and decided to check on Sym, but he wasn't there.

Found him a little while later when I heard another cry coming from Rowan's room; he was trying to snuggle in a corner, and was obviously feeling very sorry for himself. I brought him back out into the main room and he went and snuggled on his cat bed - I got a blanket to cover him with 'cause he felt very cold, and he let me put it over him up to his shoulders. That in itself is unusual for him.

I thought it odd enough on Sunday that he tolerated me cwtching up on the bed with him held close to me, though he didn't stay for more than about ten minutes.

His little meows are quite high and mournful at the moment, and I was very reluctant to go to bed last night.

Right now he's back on his bed again - he's barely moved in the last twelve hours - snuggled under the blanket. I'm trying to get hold of the PDSA to get him checked out, but the number's constantly engaged. Thankfully my manager didn't make a fuss when I called him to say I doubted I'd be at work today - I did say I would try, if I can get a late appointment, but I don't know if I will. He'll probably ask me to work the time back, but that's not too hard right now since Rowan's at camp till five thirty.

*sigh* I wonder if this is it. He's already outlived Tammie by about a year.

:-(

So, got Sym down to the PDSA's PetAid hospital down the docks this evening. I knew it was going to be bad when it wasn't any real struggle to haul the cat carrier around on multiple buses, then under the railway bridge to the hospital. It's scary how much weight the little fuzzball has lost, considering a couple of years ago they wrote in his notes that he was obese....

When I got home to collect him for his appointment, he was still cuddled up on his cat bed where I placed him the night before. He had gotten up out of it a couple of times, 'cause I left his food and water next to it before going to bed, and there was a piece of food on the carpet, plus he got up to eat his breakfast this morning. Only had a few mouthfuls, but he did at least show an interest.

This evening, while I was making sure his carrier was clean, he made his way into the kitchen to his litter tray, so he could have a pee. But then he couldn't seem to get himself back out of it and would have ended up sitting in amongst his soiled litter if I hadn't reached in and lifted him out. He then sat right down where I placed him and didn't move. I went to grab the towel he'd been sleeping on, to line his carrier comfortably, only to find it soaked in urine so I used my old woollen poncho that I'd draped over him to keep him warm last night. Placed Sym inside the box and he just sat there meeping mournfully while I put the lid on it and fastened it up.

So, when we got to the PDSA, the vet examined him, making special note of the condition of his bowel, kidneys and thyroid. There was no obvious blockage in his bowels (which didn't surprise me considering the litter tray over the last few days), and the thyroid didn't seem enlarged, but she thought his kidneys seemed very small too. And the urine sample he unwittingly provided was incredibly dilute. This led to a diagnosis of probable kidney failure, which she didn't think he is likely to recover from.

He was so weak and dehydrated he stayed sat on the examination table and made absolutely no effort to get down. He's usually a good boy for the vet, once you coax him out of the carrier, but I do usually still need to hold him gently to discourage any attempt to leave. But tonight I didn't need to touch him at all, he just lay there.

Anyway, they've kept him in overnight on saline, to see if they can rehydrate him and to do some tests, but they really don't think he's going to get better. I have to call them tomorrow to see how he is, and I expect they're going to tell me I need to come in to say goodbye.

It's breaking my heart just being home without him. It hurts to think that, after fifteen years, he won't be pacing back and forth at my feet first thing in the morning while I try to use the bathroom, begging for a fuss. Nor will he be sitting on the back of the sofa by my head, nagging at me to stop looking at the computer and skritch him already! *sigh*