Tag Archives | Oni

Three weeks ago, one of the most important creatures in my life nearly died.  He was hours, probably less, away from closing his eyes forever.  I brought him to the ER thinking he had severe back pain, and possibly had a blocked intestine.  Instead, they told me he was in shock, severely dehydrated, low potassium, and was being poisoned by diabetes induced ketones in his blood… I didn’t know he had diabetes until that moment.  It was an unexpected realization that I might lose him that day.  I felt like I’d been punched in the face.  And I felt terrible guilt because I’d missed (in hindsight) some pretty blatant signs he was in much worse trouble than I’d thought, assuming it was his back that had been bothering him.  He managed to make it through that first night, and fought his way out of immediate danger in the following days.  But while recovering from the near death experience, he was diagnosed with an adrenal tumor, that probably had exacerbated his decline, and would prevent him from coming home if not extracted.  And to add insult to injury, he had bladder stones.  After nearly two weeks in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), two surgeries (one to remove the tumor and bladder stones, and one to repair his ruptured bladder two days later) and now after one week at home as we adjust to life on twice per day insulin, my cat appears to be on the road to recovery.  I’m not so sure I am yet.

That’s right… I’m writing about my cat.  His name is Oni (short for Onnicus, appropriately the Finnish word for ‘lucky’), and he means the world to me.

Over the past few weeks as this has gone on, I’ve experienced generally two responses from people who learn about the ordeal.  There are those who get the devotion I have for a non-human companion, and why I did everything I could to save his life regardless of the expense, and there are those who don’t.  With this blog, I wanted to share my story so that perhaps a few of the latter group to gain some understanding that those of us in the first group already have.

Most people understand love in its various forms.  Unless you’re a sociopath, you probably have loved some other person, so you understand the basic emotion.  But sometimes when that love is applied to a non-human, we have trouble understanding what we may not have experienced.  I’m not trying to equate animals with people.  I’m not saying we’re the same.  But we have far more in common with each other, than we like to admit sometimes.  If you’ve ever loved another person, you should be able to understand my love for my cat.  If you’ve ever loved a good friend… you absolutely understand my love for Oni.  He can’t carry on a conversation with me like my other friends can, but where he lacks in communication, he makes up for in loyalty, affection, and love.  He’s comforted me during some very dark times.  He’s made me smile, laugh, cry out of happiness, and lifted my spirits when I’ve been blue.  When I’ve felt utterly alone in the world, he has been there to remind me I am not.  With a loud purr, a gratuitous cuddle, or a meow to greet me at the door when I come home from work, he helped me believe I am needed.  He has been a friend as much as any human I’ve known.  And I have some amazing human friends as well.

When a person we love dies, part of our grief is due to the sense of loss and finality.  We will never share with that person what we have shared before.  All future potential falls into the void.  Gone forever.  Losing a beloved pet stirs the same despair.  As we toil with grief, we often are wracked by regret.  In my case, as I mentioned, I had missed many signs over the previous weeks and days before I brought Oni to the ER.  I allowed him to suffer needlessly, and possibly could have helped him much sooner had I been more aware of his illness.  So along with the normal fears of losing my friend suddenly, I felt tremendous guilt for putting him through this.  The day before I brought him in, I’d gone out to breakfast, spent the day out and about, all the while I should have been rushing him to the emergency room a full 24 hours (at a minimum) sooner than I had.  I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for that.  Its hard to think about.  I felt I’d let him down and might never have the chance to make it up to him.  He’d only know those last hours of pain, and not how much I loved him.  As a person with anxiety and obsessive tendencies, I knew it would torment me until I died.  I’ve lost pets before, mostly during my childhood, and I still feel that pain.  This would have been multiplied by 1000 because of the responsibility I felt his condition.

Those regrets were only part of the picture.  I also wrestled with guilt for the occasional dark thought that would cross my mind.  that maybe it would be better to have it all end now.  That even if he made it through that first night, his life might still be short.  There might be many more emotional days ahead for us.  And I would need to make sacrifices to care for him.  I will worry about him until he takes his last breath, whenever that is, and part of me wanted to end the worry, and deal with the pain of grief instead.  I would have those thoughts, and then feel like a traitor.  Like an evil, selfish person undeserving of the blind devotion of one amazing furball.

One thing I decided early on… if Oni had a chance at recovery, a recovery which would extend his life, and make it one worth living, then I would do whatever it took to make it happen.  I would not be able to live with my demons if I pulled the plug — or worse… asked doctors to push drugs into him to end it when there was still hope — when he had given me more joy than I could repay him for.  In some ways, this cat saved my life.  I ow him everything.  Three years ago, I’d lost my job (the details I’ll save for another day, perhaps).  At the time, that experience had felt like a death.  I felt grief for my lost career, regret for choices I’d made, and fear of the unknown.  I went into a pretty big depression.  I didn’t know that kind of darkness was possible for me until then.  My mind wandered into some pretty desolate corridors.  If my cat hand’t been there to give me his fluffy, unconditional love and neediness, I’m not sure if I’d have come out of it.  He needed me to keep him alive, and that gave me a purpose to keep going.  I owe him every chance I can give him.

Dealing with the stress of possibly losing a dear friend was difficult.  The world understands the loss of a parent, or child, or husband or wife, or relative.  Its usually sympathetic to the loss of a human friend (though somewhat less).  The world doesn’t always understand the loss of a pet.  I found it difficult to focus at work (luckily I had a fairly light schedule, and an amazing boss, but I’m not sure how long I can push that leeway).  Not everyone completely understands why I was struggling so much.  While many of those who “get it” were amazing, some of those who don’t made coping with the stress even harder.  When I would say my cat was in the hospital, and explain the situation, many people would say things like “that must be expensive” or “maybe its time to get another cat”.  I heard more stories about people putting their pets down than I’d ever care to hear.  Oh, and did you know, I was working for free that week (with all of my salary basically going to pay off the Vet)?  It was difficult to see the look in people’s eyes (and sometimes hear their overt words) that suggested I am crazy for spending any money on a sick cat.  And I won’t lie… its a lot of money.  Its stressful to think about the amount of money I’m spending on my cat (and its not over… he has more ahead of him).  While I’ve joked about selling a kidney, I am seriously considering moving in with my parents for a year or more and renting out my condo.  No joke.

My only response though is this: If you want to ridicule me for having too much love for another creature that has emotions similar to your own, I’m ok with that.  My love for my cat doesn’t mean I don’t love people.  The ability to love beyond ourselves is a virtue, even if one of the targets is a non-human.  Can it ever be a bad thing to expand our circle of love?  I submit that anyone who can love a cat, or a dog, or a parrot, or any non-human companion, is a person better able to love humans alike.  Money means nothing if I can’t live with the choices I make.  I’d rather lose everything else, than lose my empathy, compassion, and love.  If that makes me crazy, or a source of easy mockery, then so be it.

Peace,

PersephoneK

UPDATED:  Anyone interested in helping support Oni’s recovery can do so via the GoFundMe page a friend of mine set up for him.  I’m so humbled to have such amazing friends.

Oni day before 1st surgery.

Kitty under a blanket… does it get cuter?

Oni became an ICU celebrity, loved by all. He even got two traveling trophies…Stuffed Barney, and the Medal of Hope.

Close to homebound, Oni was given an expansive cat condo in the ICU.

Home! Showing me his tough scar.

Enjoying a well deserved snooze one week at home.