Tues. Sept. 10, 2019: RIP Lucy

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Tuesday, September 10, 2019
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Sunny and pleasant

RIP Lucy

It was an awful weekend.

We lost our darling rescue cat Lucy, who’s only been with us for 13 months, on Saturday, to an inoperable liver tumor.

Her behavior had changed last week, and we were worried about her. She started eating less and less. On Thursday and Friday, she refused food completely. I tried to get in with my regular vet, and got no response. I tried to get in with the vet to whom I’d hoped to switch. No response.

On Saturday afternoon, I took Lucy to the emergency vet in Dennis. They were so kind and attentive, but the news was bad. Even if we did all the procedures to help her, surgery, etc., she might not survive the surgery and she would only have about three months of pain left.

The only humane thing to do was to let her go.

I made the wrong choice with Olivia, Felicia, and Elsa, when each of them was sick. I kept them going medically too long. I wasn’t going to do that with Lucy. I always adopt rescues, and there’s always a risk with rescues that there will be medical issues. But I don’t regret any of the adoptions.

It hurt so much to say goodbye to our beautiful girl. She came to us last summer as a terrified rescue, who’d never had a toy and didn’t understand any words. In the past 13 months, she blossomed into a sweet, funny, affectionate, smart little girl. She and Tessa got along beautifully, and she was my elderly mother’s constant companion.

We are devastated.

I’ve always said that the story the guy who gave her up told didn’t make sense with her behavior. Now, I’m pretty sure he knew she was sick, and that’s why he rehomed her. He knew she was dying.

And my regular vet didn’t catch it. That makes one mis-diagnosis (Iris) that I figured out and Iris managed to have a good life until she was 21. And one missed diagnosis that cost Lucy her life. Definitely time to change vets.

At least we managed to give Lucy 13 months of happiness. After the first week with us, when she was scared, she truly was a happy cat. As sad as I am at losing her, I wouldn’t change those 13 months where she was happy and loved and brought joy into the house.

Tessa looks for her, and worries. She also takes her job as “companion” now very seriously, splitting her time between my mother and me. Tessa hates being an only cat.

But I need to establish Tessa with a new vet before I can adopt again.

It’s frustrating here, because so many of the shelters don’t socialize the cats and mark the adoptable cats that they have to be the only pet in the house. That doesn’t work in this household, where we have multiple cats. Also, I have nearly three decades of experience at this point integrating new cats into the household. I know how to do it. I certainly have more experience than an arrogant 20-something in her first job.

So I’m considering going back to one of the organizations where I adopted before. I’m still established and still in contact with some of them.

But it’s still too early. We need to grieve. Tessa was an only cat for just a week when Iris died, before we brought Lucy in, but it might be longer this time. We have to make sure it’s not too hard on her.

Needless to say, not a lot of writing got done. I managed to get a pitch out to one of the slicks (high-paying print mags on glossy paper) on Friday morning, and I’m proud of it. I hope they take it. I got some work done on “Pier-less Crime” and not enough work done on GRAVE REACH. ELLA was hit and miss, but it’s not on deadline, so it can take as long as it takes.

We barely got spanked by Hurricane Dorian. A little bit of damage to some of the plants on the deck, but that’s it, thank goodness. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as they predicted, although the ferries to the islands were cancelled.

I could barely get out of bed yesterday. The thought of going in to work onsite with my client was too much, but I can’t afford to take a day off.

I didn’t go to Meditation yesterday. They would have been kind, but focused on heart-opening work, and my heart needs protection right now.

We grieved for Iris last year, but she was 21 and died of old age after a long, happy life (I had hand-raised her since she was 4 weeks old). Lucy was only 8. I wish we’d had more time with her. She was our little love bug. Our cuddler. We loved her very, very much.

We are heartbroken.

Published in: on September 10, 2019 at 6:27 am  Comments (2)  
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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. The more I learn about you, the more I realize how alike we are. We’re around the same age, both love cats, both love to cook, both are writers (me PT) & both of us worked in the arts (again PT for me -Washington Opera when Placido Domingo was Artist Director & Shakespeare Theatre with Michael Kahn). I am glad we met through Twitter. Cyber friends are nice to have. If we ever find ourselves in the same town, we should have lunch.
    And yes, good vets are hard to find. My cat has hemophilia & he was mis-diagnosed for 3 yrs. He almost died but fortunately the right vet came along & now he is in remission & is fine.
    Why dont you write Lucy a love letter. It is therapeutic. That is what I did for my cat when he was in the hospital. I listed all the things I love about him. I read it to him on his birthday each year.
    See you on Twitter.
    Elizabeth (you can send me emails)

  2. I’m heartbroken for you, Devon. 😦

    It was the right decision. Look at it this way: Lucy had a family in the last months of her life. She had a GOOD family. It sucks so badly when animals leave us, but the joy they bring us is immeasurable.


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