I got a kitten that was a source of great joy for months until he started to get sickly. He stopped playing, basically slept all the time. Developed minor obsessive behavior, like sleeping in the same spot for two weeks or so until he switched to a new one and scratching himself whenever he was nervous to the point where he had scabs all over the area he scratched. He still ate and drank water but displayed no curiosity at all. He'd only respond to attention on occasion but you'd feel so lucky when he did.
This was when he was around 4 or 5 months old. He was diagnosed with feline hip dysplasia and his reluctance to move was attributed to that. I made him makeshift stairs everywhere to facilitate movement and take as much strain as possible off his legs. Shortly afterwards, he was also diagnosed with anemia. He was 10 months old, skin and bone, and the size of a kitten half his age. He was on a lot of medication to try and get him back on his feet and he was improving but very, very slowly. So much so that the slightest sign of interest in anything was great news. One evening, his breathing became insanely labored. I stayed up all night with him. He couldn't be left alone for a second. It seemed he was in horrible pain from his legs. He was breathing rapidly, then he'd scream and try to drag himself forwards to readjust them. I figured out how he liked them to be and whenever this would happen, I'd move him myself. It was a very long night until his vet was available in the morning (there are no vets available at night where I live). Turns out that he had wet FIP. The vet gave him medicine and said he needed to be on a drip. Back home, he started to have seizures. His breathing got very slightly better when his medicine kicked in, but the seizures continued, I assume from lack of oxygen to his brain, which probably led to nerve damage as he later started twitching very badly. By the time this was happening, there were no longer any vets available. He passed that same night. I have been reading up on wet FIP and can't seem to understand exactly what happened. My understanding is that he drowned on his own fluids. Slowly. The knowledge that this tiny baby that was once so playful and full of life died so horribly and suffered so much is destroying me. The guilt I feel over not having put him down that morning is just...
I thought he could make it. I had so much hope for him. I talked to him about how I knew he was in pain but the medicine would make it go away and that soon he'd be healthy and grow up to be happy and big and fat and that I'd make it all up to him. None of that happened. It's been two and a half weeks and I've been unable to even think about it, let alone process it. So much guilt, regret, and sadness over him never getting to enjoy himself and having a happy life. He was such a little ray of sunshine before he got sick. I find myself unable to cope.
This was when he was around 4 or 5 months old. He was diagnosed with feline hip dysplasia and his reluctance to move was attributed to that. I made him makeshift stairs everywhere to facilitate movement and take as much strain as possible off his legs. Shortly afterwards, he was also diagnosed with anemia. He was 10 months old, skin and bone, and the size of a kitten half his age. He was on a lot of medication to try and get him back on his feet and he was improving but very, very slowly. So much so that the slightest sign of interest in anything was great news. One evening, his breathing became insanely labored. I stayed up all night with him. He couldn't be left alone for a second. It seemed he was in horrible pain from his legs. He was breathing rapidly, then he'd scream and try to drag himself forwards to readjust them. I figured out how he liked them to be and whenever this would happen, I'd move him myself. It was a very long night until his vet was available in the morning (there are no vets available at night where I live). Turns out that he had wet FIP. The vet gave him medicine and said he needed to be on a drip. Back home, he started to have seizures. His breathing got very slightly better when his medicine kicked in, but the seizures continued, I assume from lack of oxygen to his brain, which probably led to nerve damage as he later started twitching very badly. By the time this was happening, there were no longer any vets available. He passed that same night. I have been reading up on wet FIP and can't seem to understand exactly what happened. My understanding is that he drowned on his own fluids. Slowly. The knowledge that this tiny baby that was once so playful and full of life died so horribly and suffered so much is destroying me. The guilt I feel over not having put him down that morning is just...
I thought he could make it. I had so much hope for him. I talked to him about how I knew he was in pain but the medicine would make it go away and that soon he'd be healthy and grow up to be happy and big and fat and that I'd make it all up to him. None of that happened. It's been two and a half weeks and I've been unable to even think about it, let alone process it. So much guilt, regret, and sadness over him never getting to enjoy himself and having a happy life. He was such a little ray of sunshine before he got sick. I find myself unable to cope.
