Yesterday, I had thought we were going to see Joe sooner. But as it turned out, Joe could not wait for us.
btmao and I had a suspenseful, apprehensive wait outside the clinic. As soon as the doors opened at 2pm, we asked to see him, and was told he had just passed away.
He was taken out to one of the consult rooms for us to see. He had been so sick that even his nose and pawpads were white. There was no colour in his gums either. His jaws and eyes were slightly open, and he looked to be grimacing in terrible pain. But his body was simply prone, not arched or stretched, which indicated he simply slipped away. He must have been so tired.
The very nice vet tech who had been caring for him told us he was still breathing when she checked on him before 1pm. Judging by his still pliant body, she estimated that he had passed away somewhere between 1 and 2pm. While we regret not seeing him one last time, we’re glad that he’s no longer suffering.
The vet tech also said it was such a pity, Joe was a really really nice boy. But she also said cancer, especially this type, doesn’t usually manifest until the late stages, and that it was fortunate for him that it was a short battle. The verdict remains: neoplasia (or cancer: part 1, Part 2) of the blood.
To think that this huge strapping boy, this large teddy bear of a cat, who had absolutely no fear of other cats or people, was brought down by such a tiny thing, the enemy within.