Mr. Meow right when we brought him home from the vet Saturday 11/27

Poor Mr. Meow…He got to come home Saturday but they had to put a feeding tube in him first.

They also loaded him up on all kinds of drugs. If it’s the triWHATCMACALLITitis (I still can’t get the name of it, but it’s basically an inflammation/infection of his liver, pancreas and gallbladder) the antibiotics should treat that.

If that doesn’t work, then it’s likely cancer and it’s only a matter of time. How much time they can’t say. Depends on how fast the cancer progresses.

It was awesome to get him home. The feeding tube has been quite the adventure, but today I got a better hang of it. I still ended up squirting a bunch on him, but a lot less than my first few tries.

He seems to be very happy to be home. He slept with me the whole night through Saturday. He always falls asleep with me, but usually moves to one of his other comfy spots during the night.

Last night he slept on my head like he used to do the first several years we had him. And during the times I’m on the couch… he’s been right there with me, his back leg thrown over my arm in that way he does to “hug” me.

I’m very grateful for this time with him. I hope it’s going to be a healing time, but if it turns out it’s the beginning of the end then I’m thankful we’ve had these last moments to say goodbye and show each other in the ways we’ve developed over the years that we love each other.

Mr. Meow in his crate after his follow-up visit today to check his tube and get a new bandage

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The last several months Mr. Meow’s had a heck of a time. It sort of all started back when he got a bad tooth. One of his front fangs cracked off, became infected, and eventually needed to be pulled.

He hadn’t been eating back then too good. It made sense, though. His mouth was in pain and he had an infection so he couldn’t have been feeling too good.

But then he never really bounced back after that. The last month he’s been really bad. He hasn’t been eating hardly anything and has continued losing weight.

Last week I took him in for some reason. At the moment I can’t even remember why. Was it a check-up for his thyroid meds? Or was it something else? Maybe to get the results from his ultrasound? No, I think she called to talk to me about those. Maybe it was to get another steroid injection for the itches he’s had lately.

I can’t remember. My mind’s not functioning as I write this. All I know is the last few days he’s really been bad about eating. Yesterday I called and made an appointment for him today because all he’d had was a few treats. Something told me I better get him back in, so…I did.

Our regular vet is off this week, but all the vets where we go are good. Today’s vet gave us some options, one of which was to hospitalize him and see if fluids and antibiotics will help at all.

So, as much as I hated to do it, I left him there. I want him home, and I know he wants to be home, but if they can do anything to help him not starve to death I want to try.

Complicating treatment options is that no definitive results are turning up. His ultrasound turned up a variety of possible causes for a different things.  His last blood work didn’t indicate anything specific.

But it’s not normal for him to have lost so much weight and not eat. They know something’s going on, they just can’t pinpoint what.

I just hope he comes home from the hospital. I know he’s getting older, and I know we may end up having to make a hard decision here shortly. But I sure don’t want to. He’s been such a good cat. He wandered into our lives 11 years ago this month and has done nothing except totally enriched it.

Coming home to a Mr. Meow-less house right now and sitting here expecting to see him perched in his usual spots has me thinking, “The day may be coming sooner than I want that he won’t be here anymore.”

That just makes my heart hurt more than mere words can describe.

I’m hoping with all my might that it’s an infection and he responds to antibiotics and starts feeling better again. Even without eating he’s still been snuggling and playing. If it was cancer I don’t know if he’d do that.

Although, he’s always been one tough and ornery cat. I hope that helps him beat whatever is ailing him now so he can come home and live to be a really old, fiesty Gata Bato. One who dies years from now peacefully in his sleep.

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I do. I always have. I love making wishes. I don’t care if it’s when I blow out the candles on my birthday cake, when I toss a coin into a fountain, or when I see a star twinkling overhead…if I can make a wish I’m not going to waste the opportunity.

When I was younger I used to wish for silly things:

• to be popular (or even just liked)
• for certain boys to notice me
• to become more attractive

Then I went through a phase where I was very cautious about what I’d wish for, because I learned the hard way that the saying, “Be careful what you wish for” became a saying for a reason. Sometimes you get way more than you bargained for when your wishes come true.

The past few years my wishes have definitely reflected all that went on in my life. When I was going through my nutty time with my mom I wished for peace and strength a lot.

When  I got diagnosed with cancer I wished for healing and strength (especially in the beginning when I was still terrified of needles).

Since I’ve been in remission I find myself wishing things for other people. Like answers instead of uncertainty for my friends having relationship troubles, or hope, courage and healing for others I know facing health problems.

But tonight I read an email from someone who found me via Haunt Jaunts. Her niece was recently diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma. Her niece is just seven years old.

We’ve exchanged a couple of emails. In her last one to me she sent a picture of herself with her niece. I bawled for 10 minutes straight.

The picture wasn’t sad. It was of them together in the hospital, but her neice wasn’t bedridden. She was standing, her aunt seated next to her, and they looked to be in a playroom the hospital set up.

Even with her little porta cath sticking out of her arm, she had a smile on her face. Just a slight one. Almost a shy one.

Her aunt had enclosed it with the latest details of her niece’s struggle to win out over the cancer. (She’s had a rough time. Much rougher than I had. She’s had to stay in the hospital a lot, and her mom and dad have three other ones to care for also, including a newborn.)

She had another slight setback recently, and as I read about it I cried and wished and prayed that no child should ever have to endure cancer.

I know what wish I’ll be making next time I see a star. Well, the couple of wishes I’ll make. First and foremost for this beautiful little seven-year-old girl to become a NHL survivor. Second, that one day we won’t need cures for cancer. We’ll know how to prevent it in the first place.

And if that doesn’t happen, my wish is that medicine keeps advancing so treatments have higher and higher survival rates with less and less side effects.

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I was going through photos the other day looking for old Halloween costumes of my youth when I stumbled across this picture. I cracked up laughing.

If ever oh ever there was a picture capturing my essence (or the one I imagine of myself), this one is it. God, I loved that slide whistle!

But beyond me marching down the trail to what I’m sure was the sound of my own off-beat tune, that’s what I see: me marching merrily and obliviously back to my dad’s truck and whatever our next adventure was going to be.

That’s how I spent my childhood. I think that’s how I survived my childhood. Just me in my own oblivious world. Just give me something to focus on, and I was one happy camper. (Which is what I’m sure we were doing in this picture. Coming from or going to a camp ground.)

In this picture it’s a slide whistle, but a book or some paper and crayons or my beloved Barbies were my other ”keep me happy by focusing on something else” tools. It didn’t take much to distract or amuse me.

But, man, this picture of me and my slide whistle really brought back some memories…and also reminded me of the girl I once used to be. Where did she go? Is she still there hidden in the depths of this grown-up version?

Hell yeah. I just forget to let her march along Life’s path to her own off-beat tune with oblivious abandon like I used to. Gotta change that.

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