A Member of the Family

By Elaine Viets

 Last November, our cat Mystery took sick. At 5 a.m., we heard an awful glorping noise.

"Not the rug, kitty!" I cried, stumbling out of bed. I carried her to the tile, tried to soothe her, gave her a spoonful of hairball medicine and cleaned up the floor.

After several days, Don and I knew our cat did not have an ordinary problem. Mystery was bred to be a show cat. She’s a seven-year-old Chartreux, a French breed with smoky gray fur and copper eyes. Mystery bit a judge at her first cat show. She was spayed and sold to us. Her brother won a slew of blue ribbons.

Mystery – her official name is Columbleu’s Unsolved Mysterie – seemed happy as a house cat. She played with her pal Harry, a brown rescue tabby, and was a loving, sweet-natured cat.

 

But in November, Mystery quickly lost more than two pounds. Now she was 9 pounds, 10 ounces. Her fur was ratty and her bright copper eyes were dull as old pennies. The hairball medicine didn’t stop the horrible morning wake-up cry,  "Not the rug, kitty!"

Don and I took her to the vet. He conducted tests and put her on a special diet of venison. (You can’t believe what deer meat pet food costs. Think about farming Bambi. Seriously.)

Mystery improved briefly, then the problem started again. She lost more weight and felt like a sack of cat bones. She quit playing and starting sleeping in my hair at night. Back to the vet. There we met two weeping women bringing their cat to be put to sleep. "We can’t afford to keep her alive anymore," said one. Her friend cried on her shoulder.

The vet gave us sad news: Mystery might have cancer. He recommended she go to a referral hospital for more treatment. We knew it would be expensive, but she was still young. I couldn’t face the grief of those women in the waiting room. Not yet.

At Lauderdale Veterinary Specialists, the vet opened the caddy and let Mystery come out and explore her office while she talked to us.  She said the only way to know if Mystery had cancer was if she had abdominal exploratory surgery. If we were lucky, Mystery would have inflammatory bowel disease, which could be treated with prednisone.

Don and I signed the papers for the operation. I looked at the four-figure estimate and said, "There goes the new couch."

"She’s family," Don said.

Mystery was not human, but she was a big part of our household. Our other cat, Harry, howled all night while she was in the hospital. The house seemed empty without her.

Mystery came home with her belly, paw and neck shaved. She weighed 9.6 pounds.The LVS doctor said our cat had incurable intestinal cancer and recommended chemotherapy.

"No," I said, crying in her office. "We won’t subject her to the horrors of chemo. Better to let her go."

But cats and dogs tolerate chemo better than humans. LVS referred Mystery to the Animal Cancer Care Clinic in Ft. Lauderdale.

If I ever have cancer, call me Fluffy and check me into ACC. Those ailing animals are treated better than most people I knew with cancer.

I thought the clinic would be a sad place, but it’s cleaner and more cheerful than many hospitals. It looks like the lobby of a boutique hotel.

Our first visit was in December. Now we have a routine: A nurse meets us and takes Mystery. We fill out a short questionnaire about her health. Then we sit with other pet owners and play with their animals, or retreat to a quiet alcove. The staff gives us coffee, tea and cookies.

We spend less an hour each visit – and that includes Mystery’s exam, tests, a corticosteroid shot, and a personal chat with her oncologist. If we have problems between visits, an oncologist is on call 24/7.

Every three days, Don gives Mystery her chemo, Leukeran. The pill is so strong he has to wear gloves. She wolfs it down in a Pill Pocket, then has Cerenia in another Pill Pocket to settle her stomach.

Mystery’s incision has healed and her fur grew back. She’s in remission and weighs almost 14 pounds. She plays, purrs, chases Harry, and has a big appetite.

Since November, Don and I have spent more than $6,100 on Mystery’s care. We skip vacations and eat out maybe once a month. I don’t buy expensive clothes. Don didn’t get new carpet for his car. Mystery is our major luxury.

We can’t beat cancer, but we can buy time. For us, it’s worth the cost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[(just a fan)]

Weeping just a little here ... What a lovely story. And what lovely people you and Don are.

[Elaine Viets]

Thank you. This is a battle we can't win, but we'll fight it. We've lost too many of those we love to this evil disease.

[Barb Goffman]

Oh, Elaine. What a beautiful post. Our animals are our family. I can't even add up what I've spent on Scout. He's had cancer twice since I adopted him, a torn ACL, a splenectomy. When he got cancer that last time (his third cancer diagnosis over all), they gave him eight weeks. I wasn't giving up. I got him into a trial for a new form of chemotherapy, and it worked, and he's been cancer-free now for a few years. Oh, I'm crying as I type this. I love him so much. I can tell you and Don feel the same about Mystery. She's lucky to have you. And you her.

[Elaine Viets]

You and Scout sound like a pair of fighters, Barb. I'm glad he's still with you.

[William]

Mystery is a very lucky cat! And I'll bet he'll surprise everyone..:)

[Elaine Viets]

I hope so, William. Talking to other pet owners, they said to expect six months to three years. We've passed the six month mark and Mystery is now 8 years old. We hope she'll enjoy more birthdays.

[Cath]

Mystery is a SURVIVOR with such loving pet lovers, you and Don. Having a couple of similar experiences, I empathize with you on how far you will go to care for your beloved Mystery. She's family. I think I'm the same as you are. I'd spend as much as I could to get my cats healthier and keep a positive outlook. May Mystery live far past 8 years. Yes, she sure is young.

[Elaine Viets]

Cath, I can hear my practical German relatives spinning in their graves -- or shouting "That much money for a CAT!"
But couches don't purr and I can't hold one on my lap.

[Annette]

Elaine, I understand more than you can know. I have 3 rescued Boxers. Two of them are sisters and both have the cancer gene. They each have had things removed several times and one has lost a front leg to cancer. The third dog has a heart issue. Yes, it is all expensive. So far, I have been able to pay. And everyone is OK. The thing is, they are like babies. Spoiled rotten babies. I love them, and I think they love me. So, we are all in this together. I think that is what life is, doing what we can for those we love.

[Cath]

Elaine - my husband "spins his brain" when I tell him one of the cats is sick. I just don't tell him the cost. The appts. are most times when he's at work. I use my own cc and pay it from there, so it's my own bill for the cats. It's how I do it and it works. The less he sees, the household is fine. The cats get the best care.

[Elaine Viets]

You have our situation tripled, Annette. Good luck to you and your pack.
Cath, I once did a story about a massage parlor that billed clients for a restaurant. Maybe your vet could change the billing to "household repairs."

[lil Gluckstern]

Such a great story, and I'm so glad Mystery is doing so well. They are so much a part of our lives, and give so much.

[Elaine Viets]

Well said, Lil. Our house feels better with two cats.

[marie]

Elaine, your line "Call Me Fluffy" had me laughing through my tears.
You are a lovely lady and I love Mystery..so beautiful.
God bless you and Don and Mystery!

[Elaine Viets]

Thanks, Marie. But I'm not entirely kidding. I wish my grandma had been treated as well as my cat.

[Dana]

"But couches don't purr and I can't hold one on my lap."

Amen, Elaine. So glad to hear that Mystery is doing well, making you, Don, and Harry happy.

[Elaine Viets]

Doing well? She ran through the house this morning and sounded like a herd of buffalo. Wish I had her energy.

[krisneri]

I'm so glad Mystery is doing so well, Elaine! We're in the same place. Our dog Annabelle was diagnosed with lymphoma around three years ago. It's now been more than two years since she finished treatment, and she's still in remission. It cost us more than $8K, which we put on a credit card, and which we're still paying off. But I don't regret a penny of it. Every day with our angel is a gift. The vet told us we wouldn't get this much time, and now she's calling Annabelle cured. I'm not sure they really know what will happen in any individual case. I'm praying you get lots more extra time with your beloved cat, too, just as I'm praying we keep getting extra time.

[Elaine Viets]

Learning about Annabelle makes me feel better, Kris. When her weight dropped to 9.6 pounds we were sure she was not going to make it. Long life to both our pets -- and yes, Mystery has her own credit card.

[Shannon]

I'm glad that Mystery is doing well and I hope she remains a part of your family for a long time.

[Elaine Viets]

Thanks, Shannon. So do we.