Tobie is another of a long line of cats we have had in our house. He arrived about 9 years ago after my daughter had to hand out her three cats when she got pregnant. A very difficult decision on her part I’m sure.
He arrived here in Ohio in the dead of winter in my truck after I went out there to help winterize the house in Boulder. He immediately took to the house and established detente with my other cat, Mystic. Mystic is now just under 20 years old with Tobie shortly behind at 17.
It was my duty today to take him to the vet and get a checkup. He has lost a load of weight lately and we feared the worst. With a certainty of almost 100%, the vet pronounced “Intestinal Cancer”.
Several options were discussed, but times have been tough on our financial resources and we just couldn’t afford almost $2500 for a complete diagnosis and treatment. Given his age, and possible response to some in-house drugs, I opted for that. I ended up with a healthy dose of Prednisone, which is a steroid, that is supposed to stimulate feeding habits. I gave him his first pill right in the office.
By the time I got him home, he was apparently very hungry. This is a first for him as he normally issues press releases to the effect that he’ll “be over to have some of that inferior food when I get around to it”. He is now in the kitchen begging for more food after the initial burst of noshing. A very good sign.
According to the vet, if I can get his weight back up, the therapy might just work in his favor. We have an appointment two weeks from now to see how he is doing.
God, I hate losing pets. My “recent” cats have lived to as old as 25 and none younger than 17 when they passed away.
Tobie, the cat: