A month later, he started throwing up even more often, including the Pepcid that was supposed to be helping him keep food down. On top of this, I found blood in his urine. Back to the vet we go for more care.
Instead of getting better, Apollo's eating habits grew worse. I think he may have been associating the prescription diet with not feeling well and stopped eating it altogether. The night before I called the vet yet again, Apollo hopped up on the sofa, stood on my chest, rubbed my face, and stared into my eyes.
He was giving up. He was tired. I could see it, I could feel it. He appreciated my efforts, but no longer wanted to fight the battle. I've loved this cat for 18 years and I'm sure if he could speak, he would say, "Enough" and limp off to the bedroom to have a nap in the window.
When I talked to the vet the next day, he advised another test and a day of IV fluids. But I know we are only prolonging the inevitable. We cannot fix kidney failure. At what point is the care you are providing your cat no longer really helping him? When does it become more about protecting yourself from having to let go?
The vet recommended getting Apollo to eat; whatever he was willing to eat. I bought his favorite Fancy Feast dry food from the local grocery store and he's been inhaling it like he hasn't eaten in years. I watch him and I can't help but think of inmates on death row requesting their last meal. I don't bother with the prescription diet anymore. I don't make him take Pepcid anymore. He still receives IV fluids every other day to keep him hydrated and comfortable, but I'm no longer putting him through the stress of fighting a battle we both know he's not going to win.
He's doing well right now. Hopefully, he will continue to be well for a long time, but if he's not, I will honor his wishes and allow him to move on. I know he will be in good hands. I know my dad has been patiently waiting for his favorite nap cat.
