Jun. 13, 2002 ~ I've said this before,
but Misha may not have much time left. A couple of times I've thought it would be best to let him go, or even thought he wouldn't make it through the night, but then he surprised me, seeming to bounce back. But now... he moves slowly, and if you reach down and pet him while he's standing on the kitchen floor, he almost loses his balance. Don't know if he's weak, or if it's the medication. Yesterday he acted distant, different, and I held off on giving him his insulin. Today he was only a little perkier, and he doesn't purr as readily. Oh, he'll still purr... eventually. But he doesn't seem like his usual self. I will spare you the details of his illness, but it can't be pleasant for him.
That's to be expected when one is so ill, but... I guess I want my old kitty back. The healthy, bouncy one, who raced all over the house. That cat, I'm afraid, is gone.
When Susan first diagnosed his cancer, she said he probably had anywhere from two months to a year left. That was nearly six months ago, so I think we've done pretty well. I'll try to wait at least a couple of more weeks, to see if he might bounce back one more time. It might happen, it might not. But I don't want to let him go too soon.
Or maybe I just don't want to let him go.
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