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Blog entries | Not knowing
Loki lies in my arms, wrapped in a towel, purring in halting starts and stops. The growing masses in his brain that affect his ability to walk and see also impair his vocal chords. The purr is no longer steady but sporadic.
Still, our neurologically-impaired kitten seems at peace as he lies in my arms. The towel calms him down and also protects my lap from his occasional loss of bladder control.
He looks at me through eyes that may or may not see clearly. We don’t know. Cats can’t talk. With our pets, we depend on signals that are familiar – the swish of a tail, a particular expression or a change in tone of a meow or growl.
But Loki is mostly silent and impaired motor control functions rob him of the ability to communicate through physical movement. When he tries to walk he falls – a lot. He stumbles over his own feet. He tries to raise his head and falls over backwards, lying on the floor, twitching but not making a sound.
I wonder: Is he in pain? Do the falls hurt him? Sometimes his head strikes the leg of the coffee table or the wall. Does not inflict more damage on his already-fragile brain?
We don’t know. Neither do vets from Floyd to Virginia Tech. After many tests, all they can tell us is that they don’t think he is in pain. They say there is nothing they can do to help him and his future rests with us. So we love him and watch after him. He has trouble swallowing so Amy feeds him diluted wet foot that he laps off a tongue depressor. If he tries to eat himself he falls headfirst into the food and then shows what we think are signs of anger with having a face covered with what he should be eating.
He stirs slightly and stretches out a front leg, pressing his paw against my chin. His eyes are open but I don’t know if he can see or even comprehend who or what I am.
Is he happy? Does he know that we will love and care for him for whatever time he has left on this earth?
I don’t know and not knowing breaks my heart.
Rachel
February 28, 2006 at 4:45 pm
What a touching post and so well written. I was right there with you holding Loki and hearing the sporadic purrs. I could not help but get misty eyed. Loki is so lucky to have you and your wife who love him so much.
Danny
February 28, 2006 at 5:02 pm
Doug,
Molly was mine, a small furry lump held in a towel, future very uncertain. Vet visits, hormone-free raw turkey and vitamin shots, holding back a rockslide with hands that are far too small.
I’m there with you, which doesn’t help. Be peaceful and loving for Loki, and he’ll know your heart.
-Danny
elgee
March 1, 2006 at 11:57 pm
Doug, Tears are running down my cheeks. Need I say more. elgee
AnneD.
March 2, 2006 at 5:00 am
I read of love given, love taken…what more could we ask? Give little Loki a kiss and a loving stroke from me.
Sigrid Smith
February 28, 2006 at 3:53 pm
Doug:
I have been a fan of The Rant for a while now but today was the first time I looked at the Blue Ridge Muse. I feel much better for having done that. To know that you are taking time for long walks, caring for your elderly cat, listening to folk music and keeping up with the local high school sports teams makes me realize that I should be thinking more about our personal wellbeing and focus a little less on the bastards. Unfortunately, I have also discovered your wonderful photography. It may take me a while to get through them so it may be a while yet before I get around to my own life. Thanks.
cindy lee
March 1, 2006 at 9:43 pm
Animals are intuitive. Weather “lower†animals can grasp the concept of love no one will ever know but I do know how my animals react when I come home. They trust me. They look to me for companionship. They take comfort in my touch. Your cat knows you are there; he takes comfort in your touch. He trust’s you. Your cat knows you will care for him. I have no doubt of that.
David St Lawrence
March 2, 2006 at 12:30 am
There is knowingness beyond the physical senses. Loki may not see you but your description tells of a cat that knows it is loved and cared for.
He may have been born crippled and brain-damaged, but he has pulled in two people who have made his brief life as comfortable as any cat could hope for.
Never consider that your efforts are wasted. The kind acts you perform for Loki do more for your own emotional well-being than you might ever imagine.
Give Loki a pat for me. The little tyke brought a lot of love into our lives too.
zuleme
March 6, 2006 at 8:11 pm
I lost a beloved little cat at 16 months old to heart failure two months ago. He was lucky in that his short life was joyful and spent being loved and yes, he knew I loved him. I didn’t know about the heart problem and if I had I would have tried to treat and maintain him. But he would have hated that. The vet scared him.
I will miss him the rest of my life.
Give Loki all the love you have for him. It tears us apart to love such fragile little beings who give us so much and ask so little. But how small we would be and how empty the world would be without them.