Ramses has always been a singer. As a wee little kitty, he would climb into our bathtub and meow loudly over and over again just to hear the echo. He seemed to love the sound of his voice. In our second home, he sang in the stairwell and in the small shower. Again, he seemed to choose to sing where he found the best acoustics.
Our big soft gray cat has always been our singer. As Allen has been on night-shift for this turn-around, Ramses's singing has really been driving us crazy. He sings in the day which wakes Allen. He seemed to be singing at night more than normal... maybe missing Allen or wondering why Tico wouldn't play. But all. Day. Long. His singing drives us crazy.
Tico died on a Wednesday afternoon, but his littermate-brother didn't seem to notice right away. By Friday, though, Ramses's song changed. It was searching "Where ARE you, Tico?" and it was really, really sorrowful, "I miss my best friend." It definitely broke my heart... but it still drove me crazy, especially since it was SO much more often than before.
Saturday and Sunday, Ramses was so sad. He laid around not doing too much, but would get up occasionally and wander all over the house calling (I think) for Tico. Sunday night, he laid next to the water dish and sadly rested his chin on it. It really brought tears to MY eyes seeing him so sad. Monday, Ramses didn't eat. Tuesday, he was still laying around and not eating. Everytime he started "crying," I would cuddle him. I fell asleep with him next to me on the bed. Around midnight Tuesday, Ramses started wailing again, but when I patted him in the dark, I realized he was laying in a puddle. I tried getting him up, but he wouldn't move. I moved him to the tiled bathroom and he still couldn't stand up.
At this point, my uncontrollable sobbing began -- partly because I was so exhausted, partly because he seemed to be going downhill so fast and I wasn't ready for it. I stripped all the layers from my bed, started a load of laundry, then cried because all the clean sheets and quilts were up too high for me to reach. When I calmed down and woke up a bit more, I did figure out how to get to them, but my heart was breaking again.
I was able to get Ramses to the vet Wednesday afternoon. He was severely dehydrated, but the vet did get enough blood for some tests. Fifteen minutes later he came back to the room with a sad look saying Ramses was not doing well. He seemed to be at the final stages of renal failure. The vet thought that getting him rehydrated might help some of his numbers, but it would be pricey. I talked to Allen and we decided to try hospitalized treatment until Friday. If it wasn't looking better by then, we planned to bring him home and just love him until the end.
Thursday, I went to visit and held him for awhile. Friday, he was worse -- barely lifting his head and still not moving the rest of his body. I picked him up Friday afternoon, and I set him up in his favorite bed in the bathroom.
Friday and Saturday, I changed out the towels beneath him several times. He was silent most of the time, but moaned a little when I moved him. His eyes are still so sweet and his face is still so soft. I've wiped him several times with a warm cloth, but his breath still stinks.
Darn it -- I am mad. I don't know who I am mad at or even what I'm mad about, but I am. Ramses and Tico often slept curled up in a round basket together -- sort of cuddled like a tabby "yin" and gray "yan". They were together more than 15 years and spent all day, every day together. Usually next to each other. As Tico's health started declining back in the fall, I remember wondering how Ramses would get by on his own.
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