Vigil for a Sick Cat

Mouse was the runt of the litter, and was seemingly born with a sign on her back that said "kick me".  She lived under my bed for the first 10 years, then moved upstairs the last 2.  She seemed to like me, sidling up to me occasionally, but cringing when I tried to pet her.  I finally realized last year that she was deaf, which explains a lot about her behavior.  She is constantly being startled, not hearing when other cats (or humans) approach.

A couple of weeks ago she developed a cough and started sneezing.  I did my research on the internet, which said that either she was dying of an incurable disease or she had a cold.  Not having a lot of cash on hand, I haven't taken her to the vet.  I feel a lot of guilt about that, but it's been a bad year for me - lots of plumbing bills, medical bills, and the economy has left me a bit strapped.

Mouse started hanging out with me - she'd jump up on the couch and sleep next to me, allowing me to pet her, first time in her thirteen years of life.  One night as I jumped into bed, she actually climbed under the covers and snuggled next to my chest, falling asleep until I had to turn over.  Now I knew she was sick - this was strange behavior for her.

I put a laundry basket full of clean laundry on the bench at the end of my bed, and Mouse claimed it for her own.  I eventually needed to rewash the sheets in the basket, so fixed up a nice spare basket with a blanket and a towel for her very own. 

When I went to Ethiopia I really didn't know if she'd be alive when I got home.  She was, but now she was wheezing and sounded awful.  She was still eating though, and as affectionate as ever.

Two days after I got home, her breathing became much worse, and she struggled to get oxygen even while sleeping.  When I opened the can of cat foot, she didn't come running like she normally does.  I even brought the food bowl to her basket to try and encourage her to eat, but she just turned her head.

All Monday I checked on her every 15 minutes or so, sometimes laying at the foot of the bed with my hand on her back, willing her to get better or to be free of her pain.  I went to the backyard, found a nice shady spot, and dug a grave for her.  I said my goodbyes, and thought that when I woke up the next morning she'd be gone.

But just the opposite happened.  The next morning, when I reached in her basket to pet her, I could tell her breathing was better, and she didn't have the smell of sickness on her.  She leaped out of her basket and sat in front of her food bowl as if it was just a normal day. 

I fed her twice Tuesday, and twice today.  She is still living in the laundry basket at the foot of my bed, but seems to be better.  Who knows what tomorrow may bring?  I'll still wake up tomorrow morning expecting to bury my littlest one, but miracles do happen...