Losing Barley

Barley's Baby Photo, in her foster home

Life moves so quickly, then at other times so slowly.

I remember just a couple of weeks ago excitedly typing a blog post about our new kitten, Barley.  This sweet, loving little baby I brought into my life.  She made me smile every single day, always cuddling against me and following me around the house.  I was head over heels in kitten love.  She was my girl, and we would joke about how she'd abandon Duke for me by saying he's, "Not the Mama!"

I didn't think anything the day Duke took her to the vet for her last round of kitten shots.  I told him to make sure to get her a microchip, since in my mind we'd have her for years to come.  I had a video chat with my sister the night before, to show her how the cats were getting along.

Then Duke texted me to let me know that things weren't so great at the vet.   There was a hernia (liquid pool) near her spay incision site, and she had a fever.  She needed a procedure, and the vet warned us this could be a symptom of FIP, which is a deadly diagnosis for cats.  When I took her in for the procedure the next day, the vet was unable to operate; she was severely anemic and had a slight fever.  The fluid they extracted proved to fit the description of FIP in color and protein content, and the Rivalta test was positive.

My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat.  I'd been mentally preparing to lose my older cat for years... how could I lose my baby, after so little time together?  We agreed to let the vet keep her overnight for medication and observation, to see if we could help her blood get to healthier levels and wait for further lab results.

Before we left, they let us spend some time with her.  She was still perfect.  Active, social, cuddling with us...  no sign of any suffering, pain, or distress.  There had been no change in her activity, appetite, or litterbox behavior.  No noticeable sign of anything wrong aside from the soft pouch of fluid on her stomach.

Cuddling with Duke

Every hour spent away from her felt like an eternity.  I remember going home and tipping back a glass of wine, probably a bit too fast.  Looking at the clock and expecting it to be bedtime, I realized it was only 6pm.  I went to sleep early that night, but tossed and turned.

With FIP, there's simply nothing you can do.  Believe me, I spent hours scouring for answers.  It's not something that better care, or early detection can really help with.   It's a roll of the dice in a way.  A cruel roll.  It is caused by a virus that nearly every cat carries, but in some cases mutates to cause this condition.  It is not highly contagious in its FIP form, but it is very deadly, especially the effusive version that Barley appeared to have.

I cried so many tears, off and on at random times.  I sought the advice and comfort of my loved ones.  But all the while I kept thinking, "Why did this happen to the sweetest little one?"  Barley was so full of joy and love.  I needed answers, but I found none.

I believe as humans we have a responsibility to make sure our pets live healthy lives, without suffering. Even when the decisions we have to make are at war with our selfish desires.  I dreaded having to make that kind of decision.  But I knew that it was likely I would have to.  Even Duke was near tears as we went through this uncertain time.

Sweet Barley

Still, I Googled.  Denial.  Could it be a bacterial infection?  A blood parasite?  Maybe the diagnosis was a false positive, and she just happened to have these symptoms as a coincidence.  Anger.  This isn't fair to this baby.  She brought me joy and has a good life with me.  Bargaining.  Money isn't an object.  Is there ANY way to help her?  Depression.  I can't go to work.  I'll burst into tears at any given moment.  I should just stay home and wallow.  Acceptance...  well, I'm not there yet.  And I may go through all of these emotions again.

Saying Goodbye

Today, we let our sweet baby go.  It was one of the toughest things I've ever been through.  She loved on us and kissed us when we said goodbye, and she purred until the very end just like the good little girl she was.

I know that I joke about being a crazy cat lady sometimes, but the truth is I'm just crazy about how pets can make us feel, minus the sadness of letting them go.  They can truly make us the luckiest pet parents in the world.  Right now, as I type, my old girl Cally is curled up beside me.  She even crawled into my lap tonight, as if she knew something was wrong.

It's been an exhausting few days.  My heart is going to hurt for a long time.  But I'll never forget wonderful time I had with my little Barley.

Always Mine

People have asked if I could have taken her home, or if I should have gotten a second opinion.  And I considered both of these things.  But every symptom, every sign pointed to effusive FIP beyond a doubt.  When I said goodbye, the fluid in her belly had increased so it was like a small water balloon.  It was only a matter of time for her, and I'm comforted by the fact that I saved her true suffering.  We chose not to bring her home, which was incredibly painful for us... but we wanted to minimize the risk of exposure to Cally, minimize the stress of transporting her one more time, and make the harder right instead of the easier wrong in a moment of weakness and selfishness.

Thank you for everyone who has sent me messages of condolence and support already.  I'm so glad you understand me.

[Update:  I was informed that two out of Barley's three littermates passed away as well, within days of each other.  Only one in the litter has survived thus far.  It was hard to hear this, but it helps me know that I made the right decision. 4/4/2013]

Cat Meets Cat

Cally, the Defender, 17 yrs old, female tortie; Sleeps most of the day

Barley, the Newcomer, 12 wks old, female calico; Cuddly and curious, but docile

So, many of my friends and family are asking, how did introductions go?  Most, longtime fans of Cally, were worried how she might feel about an invading youngster.  And I had my reservations too.  That's why I made such an effort to choose a personality compatible to hers.

When I brought Barley home, the first thing I did was exchange socks between the two.  That is, I rubbed a sock on each cat's face (getting that scent on it) and exchanged them.  They both sniffed curiously.  I then let them smell each other through the cat carrier.  No reaction but sniffing!

So finally I let Barley out.  She immediately ran all around the apartment, getting to know the lay of the land.  She and Cally both haven't shown any problems taking turns with water and food, but they don't really interact much.  A couple of times when Barley got close to Cally, she let out a little hiss and Cally gave a low, rumbling meow-growl.  But they coexist on the sofa within a good 2-3 foot berth.

We almost had a litter box issue with Barley (she had a little accident) but when I called her foster mom I found out we use a different kind of litter.  Once I mixed the litter with the one we use, and showed Barley, she went right away!  Smart girl.

If it continues to be a problem, I'll set out the small litterbox I have in the same room to see if she just doesn't want to share with Cally.  But contrary to the people on the internet who say the two cats mean three litterboxes, I have no clue how anyone could find the space in a decent-sized apartment for THREE boxes.  I mean, seriously?  Where?

Here are more gratuitous cat photos of the new baby.

Introducing Barley!

There's a new kitty in my life!!!

As I've mentioned before, I have a beautiful tortie named Cally who has been in my life for 16+ years now.  She's a sweetheart, and perhaps the feline love of my life.  But I've been wanting a second cat for a while, always hesitating because I was wondering how Cally would take it.

Duke and I talked about it quite a bit, deciding that we'd do some research and start looking around for a good "match" for Cally.  We found Friends of Cheatham County Animal Awareness Foundation online, and decided to check out their adoptable kittens.  The kittens are rescues from animal control, raised and socialized in foster homes.  They aren't rehomed until they are old enough to be fixed, so the youngest adoptable girls are about 12 weeks old.

Well, I was smitten with a little (long-haired, eep!) calico.  She was so docile and sweet, and smaller than her sister.  I wanted to choose a kitten with a personality that wouldn't alarm Cally, and she seemed like a great match.

Cally had a haircut, hence the awkward 'do.

Barley, as we are calling her, is such a dear little kitten!   I'll have to write an update later on how the adjustment with Cally is going, but today I just wanted to introduce you to this little girl.

She also loves to cuddle, and she doesn't hesitate to hop up into your lap!  I think I might grow to love her as much as my Cally someday.  But she's definitely a part of the family now!