Well. Well well. Saki has cancer. He’s had a bad cough for the last month, but I convinced myself it was allergies, god knows everybody else has them. Lately though, he is lost a tremendous amount of weight and had become withdrawn and lethargic. Finally, last week he stopped eating altogether, so I surrendered and took him to the vet.
Tests, x-rays, antibiotics; she called yesterday with the bad news. When I took him in, I told her I was not interested in any treatments if it turned out to be cancer. I know my decision was very strongly colored by my experience going through treatments like that with R Man the two times he had cancer. Seeing how miserable he was then was bad enough.
Also, years ago, in regard to our last cat, the very beloved and saintly Maggie, R Man and I had agreed aggressive or extreme medical treatments on an animal is frequently unwarranted. Saki would have no idea why I suddenly decided to start torturing him on the regular or why he felt so wretched. I have the ability to protect him from that, so I will. Saki has had feline leukemia for as long as we’ve had him, so with his immune system weakened by that, I’m not even sure he would survive the treatments.
The vet offered surgery to see just what kind of cancer it was, but that’s only important for determining what treatment to use against it. Since I’m not going down that road, I decided to spare him at least the stress and discomfort of the surgery. As the vet said, we’re in hospice care now.
I guess the only bright spot around here these days is the antibiotics have been really successful already. He’s perked up and is actually eating, which is encouraging. I’m mostly just carrying him around while I rub his face, which is his favorite thing next to sleeping in the sun and we have plenty of that. So he’s happy and I’m resigned. One day at a time, that’s all you get.
Naked guys, even in the most difficult times, they’re there for you.
I incorrectly claimed last Sunday was Gay Pride; it’s actually June 27. Our apologies.
What would June be without the serendipitous collision of Gay Pride and Father’s Day?
Dreamboat Eric Rio, a long time favorite here at mrpeenee, Inc.
Insert stupid “hard at work” joke here.
Insert stupid “to boldly go where no man has gone before” joke here.
Gay Pride of course requires the obligatory Village People YMCA salute.
One last daddy for the road.