Jessie, "Goodnight, not goodbye, with 7 kisses for luck..."

I took Jessie, my family’s 9 year-old kitty to the Veterinary Hospital yesterday.  He is in the equivalent of DC’s Children’s Hospital for pets. As I sat him on my lap wrapped in his blanket, I stroked his head gently and kept telling him that I am getting help for him, that he would soon be back to normal.  After a half hour of waiting, I got restless.  I put him back in his carrier and told the receptionist that I was leaving because I cannot make my cat comfortable in their waiting room.  The receptionist face turned stern. “Okay, you will just leave.  Let me tell them.” She went to the back. “I will follow up with calling for an appointment tomorrow but my cat is not comfortable. I will take him home.”  I rushed him to this hospital on an emergency basis; Jessie has not eaten or drunk in the past three days and I was starting to feel claustrophobic and helpless in the sterile examination room and no one has even peeked at my cat except the intake technician.

Finally, a vet technician came into the room. “Hi, I am so sorry, we are just swamped as there are many pets that are sick.” “I am sorry too, “ I said, my voice starting to break. “I normally would wait but I did not bring my cat here for a diagnosis. My cat has been diagnosed with a tumor in his nasal passage.  That was just two days ago and we were referred to a surgeon in this hospital.  I have not made his appointment yet but my cat has not eaten or drunk in three days and my goal today is for you to just hydrate him.  Then I will take him home, get him out of your way of treating your other patients and call for an appointment with one of your specialists tomorrow.”  “No, you don’t have to do that.  I will now take him to the back so a doctor can look at him immediately.”  She took Jessie in his carrier. I got out of the examination room to sit in the lobby and I took a seat facing the gloomy day outside. I could not keep my tears from flowing.  How could I have not paid attention more closely to him?  Why did I think he was just having a cold?  It was my son who said, “Mom, you need to take Jess to the vet, look at him!” 

In the late summer of 2002, we decided to adopt cats from the Montgomery County Humane Society. After being screened to make sure we would be fit pet adoptees, we were given clearance to adopt.

We first adopted a brown tabby whom my son named Bojangles or Bojo for short. He kept howling on our way home. I turned to my husband and said, “Turn the radio on to classical music. It will calm him down. I did that for Kris when he was a baby.” He changed the station to classical. And it calmed Bojo down. Bojo was so small and fragile and we took him away from his litter. He would not eat.  I mashed his food in a garlic press and wet it. I put him on my lap and made him smell the concoction from my hand.  He started eating.  When my husband (HB) came home, I proudly showed him that I was able to feed the kitten.  Then HB said, “He is purring. You made him purr. He is happy.”

I have not had an up close and personal relationship with cats.  When I was growing up, my mother would always have a couple of cats and dogs. We would always know that she was talking to them; lecturing them, or complaining to them or telling them something funny.  I was too self centered to even care what those pets meant.  Then I became a Mom and all the skills I have learned in taking care of an infant came into play in being a pet parent.  I whisper sweet nothings to them, I sing to them, I speak foreign languages to them. My husband begged me to stop speaking Chinese with the cats, "You are driving them and me crazy." That ended my goal of speaking Mandarin but it is okay, "wo hen hao" anyway.

Two weeks later, we went back to get a brother for Bojo.  There was a litter of grey kittens and one of them was tagged “Sateen.” We decided to adopt it.  When we came back the next day, the tag was not attached anymore and we were not sure who Sateen was anymore but we picked whom we taught was our Sateen.  He was so tiny and helpless and we took him home and named him Jessie after a Dutch friend of ours.  I did not know that in their world, Bojo was the dominant one.  One day, we came home and our son was very upset. He said through tears, “Bojo keeps beating up on Jessie.”  Jessie would hide behind doors; only about four inches long, and a few pounds, he was hissing with all his might to keep Bojo away.  I saw Bojo literally sat on Jessie while he ate. Thereafter, he would let his brother eat only after he is done eating. 

Then came Thanksgiving that year.  Both Bojo and Jessie have been growing and with that, we all fell in love with them.  They were loving, warm, playful. I gladly let them literally walk all over me while I slept.  Bojo chose my HB as his human, Jessie chose me, and they both loved our son.  I have seen either cat riding on my son’s shoulder while he played video or curled in a “nest” in between his legs while he watched TV.  Jessie would go on top of my chest every morning, kiss me gently on the face and extend his paw to lightly pat me.  He woke me up every day, my personal cat alarm.  We took them to their vet for neutering.  They both got out of that procedure valiantly.

 The day after the procedure, we heard an awful commotion in the kitchen. I rushed to the kitchen and saw Jessie, hanging and choking from a grocery bag that contained a whole frozen turkey in the sink.  He was trying to get the turkey, which was heavier than he was and he slid and got caught in the bag’s handle.  My husband said, “Jess, you just survived surgery and now you are trying to commit suicide!”  I have caught him carrying a grocery bag with a whole cauliflower in it or a tupperware bowl in a bag.  I was never sure what he was trying to do with these conquests. HB said that when we move out of our house someday, we would find things that we thought we  have lost put away somewhere by our cats. I have not given up on finding my dental guard someday.

My brother-in-law Nick and his wife Sarah and kids came to spend Thanksgiving with us.  With them came their cat, Taz, legendary for his alpha attitude.  Nick was proud to say that Taz will not back down from anyone.

The moment Taz entered our house, he made it known that he does not care about Bojo or Jessie. He climbed on a chair and pummeled Bojo and Jessie on the head.  Earlier on, we knew Jessie is just a laid back, “I am just happy to sit here” type of fellow. Bojo on the other hand, would not take it lying down under any circumstances. After being pummeled too many times, he took on Taz and boy did he chase him out.  Taz started to hide under the bed.  Bojo was openly challenging him.  The next morning, Nick said, “Well, Bojo slept with us.  I don’t know where Taz is but this morning Taz was looking at me like saying to me ‘not only did you let him beat me up, you had to sleep with him too!’”  I felt a certain satisfaction realizing that Bojo was “da man.”  HB told me not to say anything to Nick as his pride might have been bruised that his alpha cat was trumped by our kitten.  Go Bojo!  In the meantime, through it all, Jessie was just an onlooker, “Cool. What is going on? Huh? They are fighting? Really?”

Seasons changed; our son went to middle school, high school, then college.  We never noticed that our cats were getting to be adults.  They welcome us when we come home, they respond to their names being called,  we have them with us in our bed, in our lives.  We stroke them, watched them, took photos of them, and told stories about them. They suffered through winters with us without power, enjoyed summers with us with my bringing in pollen laden flowers from my little garden.

In July 2011, we took them for their vaccinations.  Shortly thereafter, Jessie started sneezing with his right eye looking swollen. We took him to a nearby Vet who diagnosed him with a virus.  He was prescribed antibiotics and a supplement to fight the virus. After a two week regimen, he did not get well. He was getting worse.  I read up on the virus and came to realize that it may not be the virus after all.  He has started to make awful sounds like he wants to expectorate but could not.  I told my husband, “I do not believe the virus diagnosis anymore. That virus sheds in three weeks and it is now past a month.  Something is wrong.” He said, “Give his body time to fight it.”  But it has taken this long to fight and maybe he needed help in fighting it. HB said, “Okay, take him to his original vet if it makes you feel better.” I did not want to feel better. I wanted Jessie and I both to feel better.  I cannot let him fight this solely on his ow, I should be his advocate.  I took him to the Vet on Friday, December 30, 2011.  My husband left that same day to spend a week with his family in New England.

The diagnosis stunned me and my husband.  “He does not have a respiratory problem. He has a mass growing in his right nostril, that is why he could not breathe properly. This can be a just a benign polyp but it can also be cancer.” When they took Jessie to be x-rayed, I felt an immeasurable sorrow for my helpless cat.  I am his spokesperson, his caregiver, his advocate. How could I have not been more observant? When Dr. Salazar returned, she showed me how to forcefeed him. She was very kind and told me that he has to eat to prepare him for what lies in the future for his treatment plan.

His lungs came out clear. All other tests came out fine except for that growth.   Dr. Salazar told me to take Jessie to a specialist in a specialty pet hospital as her clinic is not equipped to deal with his problem. “It is not an emergency.  So you can call them for an appointment.”  Never tell a pet parent or a parent that their pet or child’s aliment is not an emergency.  I wondered if she thought that I would end up euthanizing Jessie so that anything I do for him is not an emergency to allow our family to spend more time with him.

As I started to drive out of Dr. Salazar’s veterinary hospital,  the reality that we might lose him hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped the car on the shoulder and I turned around to Jessie.  “I am so sorry Jessie. We will get you some help. I will never let you down.” I cried all the way home.

I called the group of specialists’ office as soon as we got home but it was after office hours on a holiday weekend and the surgeon will not be in until January 2, 2012, Monday.  I kept Jessie comfortable. He loves sitting on my lap when I sit on the recliner.  In the last weeks,  I have rushed to get home so that I could just sit there and stroke him.  This time, as he moved from the couch to me, my heart was filled with such sadness and love for him. Bojo, kept circling about and I apologized to him because I was neglecting to give him attention but I know that he sensed that something was not right with his brother.  When he sees me force feeding Jessie, he would go near him, put his nose next to Jessie’s face and groom him. He would then look up at me as if asking me to explain what is going on. 

Saturday passed with Jessie hiding under the bed or on my lap to be stroked.  At times he woulf lift up his head and look at me.  I would stroke his head and tell him I love him and that help is on the way. I read that animals in the wild hide when they are weakened to prevent predators from attacking them. He would not eat nor drink.  Only a few days ago, he would jump at the opportunity to have his treat of chicken breast. Now, he largely ignored it.  He would not touch the food the Vet gave for sick cats.  I had to “torture” him by forcing it into his mouth. I could never do this without thinking that I was an abusive pet parent. I would start shaking after each feeding. 

 I spent hours on the web researching about cancer, polyps, malignant growths and the hits were all depressing. I was on denial.  I want to believe that it was just a polyp. Why did the Vets who diagnosed him with respiratory problem not see the growth? I learned that this growth multiply within days, they are vicious, fast and furious. 

I also learned that Terror Taz died from the same ailment; only his parents put him to sleep. When my husband told me this, I simply would not accept it to be Jessie’s fate. “I cannot kill Jessie. I have promised him that I would not let him down. I want to give him a fighting chance.”  My husband said, “We will.  You take Jessie as soon as possible and you let them do what is necessary to take it out.’  I felt a lot better knowing that my husband is with me all the way on this one.  He lost a pet years ago before we met and he had the Vet put him to sleep. He understood the emotions I was going through.  Jessie is part of our family. He is our sweet Jessie. Then HB said something, “Taz was so dehydrated that even if the vets could do anything for him, they could not find a vein to put meds in.”  My antennae was up.  After I heard that, I started to think quickly. If I waited until Monday, two days later, Jessie might not be a good candidate for surgery anymore so I decided to call the hospital and said “My cat has not eaten nor drunk in the last couple of days. He has a diagnosis that needs to be surgically taken care of in your office. Meantime, he is getting dehydrated.” “Bring him over. He will be taken in. That is an emergency.”  I grabbed my purse, wrapped Jessie in a blanket, took his carrier and off we went. The Mercedez was going in an imaginary "auto bahn." I was flying on Route 270. If a cop sees me, I swear I would be able to convince him to escort me to the Vet. Then, Jessie who was whimpering earlier was silent.    I could not see him from the rearview mirros so I said, “Jessie?” Then his little voice came out an impish “Meow..”  That is my Jessie. He talks.  He responds.  He wants me to know he is near. He was curled up behind me in the driver’s seat. I reached out to stroke his head.  “I love you, Jess.”

“Hi,  are you  Jessie’s mom?” “Yes” I answered through my tears.  “I am Dr. Sanders. Let us go back to the exam room.” We sat down.  “I am sorry that you had to wait. We have so many patients.” “Doctor, I apologize for my behavior.  I am desperate.  My cat is not here for an examination. He has a diagnosis. He has a growth in his nostril.  My goal today was only for you to give him some nutrients through an IV. Then I am willing to make an appointment with the surgeon. I am sorry I had an attitude earlier.” I wept.  “I understand completely. Don’t worry about it. I am also sorry.  We will hydrate him.  We are admitting him today. ” 

She continued, "Jessie has a tumor on his right side and it may be cancer.” “What made you say it is cancer?”  “Because it is asymmetrical.  If it is an infection, then his whole face would be swollen and also he does not have a fever that will tell us it is an infection.”  It may also ba a fungal infection. Both of them are hard to treat and sometimes cancer is easier to treat.  “There are options.” “Doctor, I need for you to do everything possible to get it out.”  “Okay. When it is taken out, it can be cancerous and there will be ways to treat it. There is chemotherapy, radiation… or we can just take it out to help him breathe better.”  “Yes, just help him out of this and my husband and I will discuss what further treatments we will get for him. I cannot bear seeing him suffer this way.”  “I have another question for you and I want you to please take a moment to think about it.”  I nodded. “He can die while on the operating table. Would you like us to rescucitate? There are two types of rescucitation. One is outside of his chest and one where we open the chest to get his heart going…” “If you were my sister, Doctor Sanders, what would you advise me?” She put her stethoscope on her lap and looked at it. Then she looked at me,  “It is a very personal and difficult decision but I will not open my pet.”  “Thank you, Doctor. That is my decision. No opening of Jessie’s chest.”  I said, “Let him go peacefully if he does not respond to outside rescucitation,”my emotions betraying me.  She handed me a box of Kleenex.  “Alright. Let me note it down here.  Doctor Saylor will be the one doing the procedure.” “How much is the procedure going to cost?”  “It will be from four thousand to five thousand dollars.”  “Okay,  do it. I will pay the down payment today.”  She said, “My first cat was like your cat. He was grey like Jessie.  A grey tomcat, he was the cat.  He is the reason why I became a vet.”  I smiled through my tears.  “I love Jessie, I cannot let him die without a fight, Doctor. “I understand completely.” Then she asked me if I wanted to see Jessie before I leave.

She brought him out.  He looked fine; he did not look like he wanted to go anywhere. It seemed like he felt that now he is in good hands.  I kissed him many times, whispering to him, “Did I not tell you I would not let you down, that I would get you help? Here it is, okay?”  As I turned to the receptionist, I said to her, “I appreciate you. Thank you very much.”  I turned away, with Jessie’s blanket and the carrier with me. I wept like I have already lost him. I called my son from the car to tell him that Jessie is in the hospital. He texted me, “Mom, Jessie is going to be taken care of now.  That is a good thing, I am glad he is in there. Please promise me that you will now rest.”  I started to drive out of the parking lot.  I have a vision that Jessie will come out of it, healthy and purring in my lap, thinking “What’s the big deal? You are such a drama queen.”

I called my husband and he was relieved to hear that Jessie was admitted. Then I started negotiating “against myself.” “This is going to cost a lot and I am willing to pay for it from my own savings…” Before I could even finish, HB said, “What’s good about being financially off if we cannot pay a couple of thousand dollars for Jessie? I know it is going to cost that much. Don’t worry about it. Jessie is a sweet cat.” Indeed. Jessie is worth more than a few thousand dollars. 

Jessiebobo, please hang in there.  You are going to be okay.  I promise.

---My son and I visited him tonight, Jan 2, 2012.  He was hooked to an IV and is on pain killers.  He looked up at us when he heard our voices. We stroked him and told him we love him.  He purred. I asked him if he was okay in Spanish, my crazy way of holding small talk with him.  I put out the shoestring that he and I play with. He grabbed it eventhough his grasp was weak. That touched me deeply.  He's stable. We were not.  We were tearfully telling him that we want him back home.  Finally, I whispered to him that tomorrow is his turn to kick butt.  Tomorrow is primetime for our beloved Jessie.  We are rooting for him. Go Jess! Go Jess! Good boy!

-Jessie has an aggressive form or sarcoma. His prognosis is death within 3-6 months.  However, the surgery gave us those months and we took a chance to allow him to spend those months with us, full of love until the end.  He has an enlarged heart according to the cardiologist. His heart is so big that it is not able to contain all the love he gives and receives.  He survived the risk of his heart giving out during surgery.  I went to visit him at the hospital last night January 3, 2012. I stroked him and offered him his string. He tried to extend a paw to touch it. Then I touched him under his chin and he purred. I started singing You Are My Sunshine to him, all the Beatles Song that meant a lot to me I sang to him. All of a sudden, I started singing an old song that used to move me deeply...and I quote, "Hey, look what you have done, showing me the sun, and now it's coming through, it's nice to be with you...Each time that I give my heart to someone new, they just turn it blue. But this time is my time, and it's all the time I have to be with you...So please, never go away, say you'll always stay, and make my dreams come true. It's nice to be with you..."

I have taken a chance on Jessie and I am preparing for the inevitable...it can be next week but like my good friend Richard said, "Life is about taking chances..." I kissed Jessie seven times for good luck before I left, whispering that I would come back to get him home the next day.  He looked fragile but otherwise still sweet and handsome.  I came home and explained to Bojo what was going on. He then ran upstairs and started howling...What do we know about  creatures small?

--

With the heaviest of hearts, Scott, Kris,& I decided yesterday, January 15, 2012, that Jessie is not getting better despite the surgery and the medications. He played with his string, ate a little baby food and yogurt but he has not been drinking and he is on steroids and pain killers. He was animated after the medications were given to him but we knew this is not how we would love him live the end of his life. We recorded him as we knew him, playing with us, eating, meowing in response to our conversation with him.

We said our last goodbye to our beloved cat Jessie at 10:15pm Washington, DC time, January 15th,  at the VCA Specialty Hospital family room. As he laid on his favorite blankie, comforted simultaneously by Scott and me, we told him how much we loved him, kissed him goodbye, thanked him for all the wonderful years he spent with us, whispering how much we would miss him, how much I loved and will always love him. As we did so, his doctor put him to sleep peacefully, free from his pains at last. We continued to tell him we loved him until we could not feel any movement from him anymore...

Jessie, we will always love, remember, & miss you...Jessiebobo, tu sabes que te amé mucho y que te amo ya, y te amo para siempre; que te voy extraño muchisimo, que dios te bendigas mi gatito preciosisimo. Duerme bien, mi amor. Siempre, siempre, siempre, te prometo a ti mi corazon, siempre, Jessie... You will always be in our hearts and I expect you to hover around me and in your favorite spots in the closets...

I LOVE YOU, come home.