We lost Painter suddenly on August 22, 2003!
We will always wonder exactly what happened to cause Painter to leave us so suddenly. He was an indoor cat and only eight and a half years old. He passed a "senior cat" physical in May of 2003 with flying colors, and was active, frisky and healthy. He would still race up the stairs, jump and leap, and play as usual.
In late August of 2003, I was petting Painter as he ate, when he vomited all of his food up. I was not alarmed, as he frequently did this. The next morning, he vomited a little more so I stayed home to keep an eye on him. He had little bugs in the past, and he raced me up the stairs as usual so I was not overly concerned.
By the afternoon, he wasn't getting any better, so we took him to the animal emergency hospital. He began panting on the way. I assumed he was very frightened, but when we got to the vet he seemed better. They gave him something to help his breathing and he was in pretty good shape when we left him for the night.
The next morning, we went to pick up Painter to carry him to his regular. veterinarian. As soon as we entered the emergency hospital, he was screaming for us. He seemed robust and anxious to leave. The vet told us that he joined them for "lunch" by lying on the table with them when they ate. (This was one of Painter's bad habits that we tolerated.) Once again, there was little reason for alarm.
However, the vet said it was possible that there was a problem with his x-ray, so she suggested his regular vet perform a sonogram.
We dropped him off at the vet at eight A.M. and called periodically about the sonogram. At one P.M. the doctor said she thought she saw something in the pictures, but wanted to get another opinion. Also, she indicated the Painter was a "very sick kitty." She mentioned that no one would there all night to watch Painter, so she suggested that we make arrangements to leave him at the emergency room for the night.
When we went to pick up Painter at 4:30 P.M. we were shocked when we saw him. He was lifeless, and could not even pick up his head. He did not respond to our voices. The doctor said that he probably had a large tumor that was squeezing the life out of him. At that point, I said that we were taking him home. She said that was probably best., and I didn't want him to die alone in a cage.
We took him home and opened the door to the carrier. He did not respond. I disassembled the carrier, and he finally lifted his head enough to look around. He realized that he was home! He took a few steps and laid down.
My wife sat in the chair and I placed Painter gently on her lap. She was able to hold him for a few minutes, but he was not able to get comfortable. He was wheezing and breathing rapidly. He moved to all of his favorite spots but was unable to ease his pain.
I carried him upstairs and he crawled under the bed. We sat next to the bed and talked to him and comforted him. At ten P.M. he came out to us. We petted him and comforted him. I left the room a time or two and he cried for me to come back.
Through my tears I sang to him our favorite song, "Mr. Tambourine Man." He became very calm at that time. I prayed to St. Francis that this little one not be allowed to suffer, and within a few minutes Painter had a seizure and died in my arms. I could feel the life go out of him as his body became instantly limp.
I placed him in a box with his kitty angel and some sponge balls. The next morning we buried him in the back yard, wrapped in my robe that he loved to sleep on, with his angel and some other toys. My wife read a poem, and we said goodbye to our beloved family member.
The next day, I called the vet to tell her that Painter had died. She still had not gotten the second opinion on the sonogram. Two days later, we received the worst possible news. The second opinion was that the sonogram was normal.
If it wasn't a tumor, that what was it that killed our cat? And why was a critically ill cat left to die until a diagnosis could be obtained by another doctor who wasn't available. Did Painter die from something that was treatable? How could a cat go from robust to near death with no treatment or therapy? We had indicted at all times that we would spare no expense to save our loved one, yet they did nothing to treat the cat or ease his suffering until 3 P.M. when Lasix was administered. What emergency could have been more important than a dieing animal?
When I call the Emergency room doctor a few days later to tell her about Painter, she asked "How's he doing?" When I informed her that he was dead she seemed shocked. She had no reason to believe that death was imminent, so she assumed that he had recovered. When I told he he died that day we picked him up, she could barely believe it. She said that she would try to find out what happened and get back to me.
Of course, no one ever got back to me. We had spent nearly a thousand dollars on tests between the two vets, and we had no clue as to what killed Painter. Maybe he could have been saved, and maybe not, but if the work was properly done, we should at least have an answer. The fact that the vet did not get back to me seems to indicate that everything did not go as it should have, and that Painter did not have to die.
In his eight and a half years, Painter received every physical, every shot, every treatment at the same vet. We were loyal and trusting. We can't believe that they would set him aside like trash and let him die without treatment or comfort until 3 P.M. That was about the time we called to say that we were coming to pick him up. It was probably at that time that they remembered that he was even there, and they scrambled to put some life back into him before we picked him up.
I guess it is all about the money, as no one offered any suggestion that we should not have to pay for a test, even though they were unable to get a reading until two days after Painter died. Who knows what happens when we leave our beloved animals entrusted to the care of professionals. And why not be honest, if you don't have the time or inclination to help the animal, let us take our pet to someone else who might be concerned enough to save it.
Perhaps I am consumed with grief and regret, but I miss him so much. We did everything together. We ate, slept, watched TV, sang and played games. When I flew my flight simulator, he would jump on my lap and stay there for the 'ride." I think that he liked the purring of the motor. He cried every day when I left for work and always greeted me when I arrived home. This site is my tribute to him. He will never be forgotten.
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