Poor Meanou...

I went to see Meanou, twice again, once in the morning, once in the evening.
He purred as soon as he saw me. The vet said he wouldn't purr at all, and was surprised he had the energy to purr.

He knows me, recognises me. Such a sweet and loving cat who is so full of love, and sadly so full of glucose his body doesn't know what to do with it and so is shutting down... He is more awake today, but still not eating much, if at all. In the evening, I held out a few dry kibbles and he ate from my hand. But that was that. He needs to eat more, otherwise cats tend to develop what is called "fatty liver" whereby the liver converts fat into energy, something that the cat's body is not designed to do and can be fatal if the condition continues.

I heard right yesterday, 30-35% chance of survival over the next few days, and the vet repeated it again to me. I did not really dare to tell my friend, for he would (and did...) break out in tears. I've managed to keep calm, but deep down I feel so conflicted and, just like thos moments with mum in the hospital when the doctor tells me the worst possible news and the low chances of recovery, I seem to be in automatic mode and just do not show much emotion.... I have not had the chance, I do not think, to fear or to imagine the worst or to imagine that he would no longer be there. I do not have that chance. Just as I never had that chance, that luxury when I was going back and forth between the hospital to see mum back then, just as I am going back and forth to see Meanou twice a day for the past two days now...

I am conflicted... for I feel such pity and compassion for the poor little (big!) furball, I feel such love, love that I did not realise I had for him until he fell so ill, and I feel such guilt too. Again, had I been more careful, paid more attention to him and not assumed that he was just suffering from heat or drinking a lot because of the summer, then I would have caught the signs and sent him to the vet much quicker than allowing him to languish like this and drift between the doors of life and death...
One more day, the vet said, and he would have easily died.

But the vet also reassured me that there was a cat who stayed hospitalised and under surveillance for 10 days and things became under control. And the cat lived for another seven years... May this be the case with Meanou...?

May it please be the case with Meanou.

There is so little I can do, and in the face of illness and in the face  of death , we puny human beings are so humbled and diminished to helplessness and dread... What can I do, what more can I do but provide him with/ make sure he has the best treatment there is and that he is cared for by professional vets and technicians (they have been so supportive and friendly... bless them...) ? What can I do except stroke his fur and rub his head and the length of his neck to reassure him that he is loved and cared for? All I can do is be there and visit as much as I can to show him that he is loved and that there is a reason for him to eat, to keep on fighting and to fight for his life.

I hope cats understand that... I look at his eyes, look into his soulful eyes, and I see a living, thinking and conscious being that is afraid, that loves, that remembers and has feelings just as any other human being has.

I pray and hope Meanou is at ease and not in too much pain...