My sister's cat Baby Boy was put to sleep yesterday. He had been in advanced stage kidney failure for some time but lately his eyes were constantly dilated. Two weeks ago, the vet said dilated eyes indicate pain. (They thought he had, in addition to the kidney failure, a stomach ulcer.) But it turns out he was losing his vision so his eyes were dilating to try to let as much light in as possible.
Which explains the vocalization. Lately, he had started meowing for no apparent reason as he was walking down the hall. Now we know he was practically blind and was probably meowing in confusion when he couldn't figure out where he was.
I am actually relieved he was going blind. It makes me feel better to know he was not in constant pain like I thought those dilated eyes indicated. Of course I do not know that for sure, but I hope he wasn't.
When I took him to the vet yesterday to find out about the vocalizing, he had lost a full pound since his last appointment two weeks ago and was severely dehydrated, even with my sister giving him subcutaneous fluids daily. The vet said if we were ready to make the decision to put him to sleep she would have no argument.
And so it was.
Baby Boy is the reason my sister has cats. She never wanted to be a cat owner. She could never understand how I could live with eau de litter box and cat hair everywhere. Then along came Baby Boy. My sis lived in an apartment with a sliding glass patio door that faced the back fence of the complex. On the other side, a housing development had its own back fence, with just enough of a gap between the two fences for an army of stray cats to live. Baby Boy used to sit on her patio, staring in through the glass door.
I told her not to give in and feed him or she would be a cat owner, like it or not.
Of course she fed him.
When she moved from the apartment, she took the cats she had been able to befriend (and catch) with her and had them all spayed or neutered. When asked how many cats we have, I am only allowed to say, "We stopped counting after three."
Rest in peace, sweet Baby Boy, First Kitty and Leader of the Masses. We will miss you and your beating up on other kitties to the point where my sis had your front paws declawed to protect the innocent. We will miss you and the way you climb up onto the reclining form of a kitty twice your size and knead him with your clawless paws in what I assume is a relaxing kitty massage. We will miss you and the way you never go anywhere without your bestest kitty friends, Eddy and Tabby, like three peas in a little kitty pod.
We will miss you, Baby Boy.
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