Spartacus

He joined the family 16 years ago in July. I'm sure I've got a blog entry in here about it. I was driving back home after dropping Tyler off at a special day camp run by the Montessori school in Sparta. I watched a suspicious white pickup ahead of me slow to a crawl then speed up a few times before I was forced to stop my car. 

In the middle of that heavily forested country lane was a little ball of grey fluff. And it was moving. If he had moved off into the woods like I suspected his siblings had, I never would have spotted him. A tiny kitten, much too small to be weaned. Another passing motorist and I searched in vain for other kittens until she couldn't stay any longer. I accepted responsibility and took the baby to my vet.

I named him Spartacus (after that lonely road to Sparta) and had to bottle feed him until he was old enough for solid food. I often said he prepared me for Max's arrival a year later. Brushed up on my infant care skills since Tyler was going on 5 years old at that point.

So here we are, 16 years later, and I'm helping with hospice car for Tyler's first furry BFF. Sparty was never going to be my cat. After that first month or so, he made it clear that he had bonded with the boy. He tolerated me. Occasionally showed me he had some affection for me. Just enough so I wouldn't find him a new home. But he was typically ornery, feisty, hyper, destructive, and very bitey. Tyler adored him.

He has stage 4 renal failure. The vet said his prognosis wasn't good about a year ago, but Tyler insisted Sparty was a fighter and too feisty to quit yet. So we opted for treatment. Special diet. A couple trips to the vet each week for medication and IV treatments. He would never get better, but treatment slowed the progression of his illness. He's just skin and bones, but up until December, he was still pretty feisty, sometimes playful, and more cuddly than he has ever been before.

Then he stopped eating. I thought that was it, but he still loved his favorite cat treats. He was obviously hungry. So we gave up on the expensive kidney care food and pampered him with a variety of his favorite canned moist foods. He loved it! He eats so much more now. But I could see him slowing down. Jumping less. Needing occasional pain medicine.

Then, right before Christmas, I noticed a lump on his neck. It felt hard and boney so I feared he had dislocated something in his shoulder region. I mentioned it to Tyler and while I was up north visiting my parents, I got a couple texts. One from Ty and one from John... it's cancer. Vet says he has 1-3 months. 

I had left the bedroom door open when I left. Both cats love my fluffy pink blanket. Plus I have a water fountain in here for them. I figured Sparty might like snoozing on my bed while I was gone. He's gotten pretty used to napping with me lately. 

It's 3am and he's using my foot as a pillow. I'm crying quietly as I watch him sleep. Checking to be sure he's still breathing. I'm surprised Tyler hasn't come looking for him. They usually sleep in Tyler's bed at night. 

I didn't necessarily agree with the initial decision to do long term treatment. Quality of life over quantity, I say. But Tyler made sure he had daily play, a warm place to sleep and a backup driver for vet appointments. He can't stand the smell of cat food and won't touch a litter box, but I think Sparty knows he's loved.

I don't think he will be with us much longer, but right now he is sleeping peacefully. On my foot. I think I'm gonna miss him when he's gone.