Once again, it has been a while since our last post. I apologize. A lot has happened in the course of the last month but none of that matters right now. Yesterday, June 25th, our baby girly Kenai died.
It came as a complete shock to our little family. This past weekend we had the Roberts family reunion. When we came back, Kenai followed us everywhere and spent every moment either in our laps or on our shoulders. Whenever we went to put her down she'd cry and dig in, trying to keep a grip on us. We thought it was adorable and that she had just missed us while we were gone. Well, after two days of that we realized that she wasn't playing nearly as much as she usually does. She's a little player. She's always been out for a fun time. By the next day she started to feel a little warm. We took her temperature at 103.3. We figured it was just a little bug and the vet was closed anyway so we decided to keep an eye on her and see how she was doing in the morning.
Yesterday morning, she was still a bit lethargic and warm but she was still playing and purring away. She even found a spider in the corner of our porch and proceeded to have a feast (she LOVED any type of bug) and came sauntering back inside with spider web all over her whiskers. We figured she was fine and proceeded to go about cleaning our whole house. After our trip it was sorely needed and we were having people over to watch the NBA draft later. Kenai just kept getting worse though. By about one thirty I was getting worried for her. She was burning up and was just curled up on top of the cat tree. I'd put her favorite blanket around her to help keep her warm and placed one of her stuffed animals at her side.
I called our vet to see if we could squeeze her in either then or the next day. They didn't have any appointments available but I brought her in and left her just in case the Doc could squeeze her in. I had planned on staying, even brought a magazine and my sigg of water, but they convinced me that it would be easier for them to just set her up in the back so Dr. Duncan could check on her any time and she'd be ready. I headed back home, worried that now I wouldn't be able to take a shower before everybody showed up. If only I'd known...
I missed a call from Willakenzie and when I checked it, I knew it had to be bad. It wasn't any of the receptionists or techs calling - it was the vet himself. That's never a good sign. When I called back, he was busy so they had me wait for Dr. Duncan to call me back. Definitely not a good sign. Even when I started talking to him a few minutes later and he told me it was a bad prognosis, I figured the worst it'd be she'd still be coming home in at least a few days. Then he said the magic words. "No matter what we do, she won't make it." Dan and I hung up and just collapsed on the floor.
Poor Kenai had FIP. There's no way to test for it, no way of knowing first, no way to treat it. By that point her temp was over 105 and her abdominal cavity was quickly filling with fluids. She was in pain and would have only two weeks or so at max to live. It's an ugly disease where a dormant coronavirus mutates and takes over the white blood cells, causing the cat's own immune system to kill it slowly. It happens in only about 5% of all cat who come into contact with the coronavirus and it can happen weeks, months, even years after exposure. Apparently the end is NOT pretty for those poor kittens.
FIP is also slightly contagious so we couldn't risk bringing her home because of Juneau. Bad enough we lost one of our lovely kittens, but if we'd lost both...I don't know what we would have done. She was already in a lot of pain and we couldn't bare to think of her suffering. No matter what we did, she would have gone. So, as painful as it was, we said goodbye to our little girl.
From the moment we picked her up at the vet she started purring again. She was such a happy kitten. So special. We sat with her for over 45 minutes or so before we could bring ourselves to fill out the paperwork. Even at the end, as they injected her with the drugs, she kept purring away. Until her last little heartbeat she was happy. We take comfort in that. She may have had a short life, but she was loved deeply and she LOVED us. Especially her brother. She had the best possible time we could have given her.
Last night we (obviously) canceled the party and spent the night just crying and talking about all of our memories of her. Everything from how she'd go crazy when she saw a spider or fly to how the one naughty thing she did was try to climb up my dresses in the closet or the railing outside to how she was such a persistent little bugger when she wanted something (usually human food). Poor Juneau doesn't even know what's happened. This morning he stuck his head under the covers and meowed, trying to find her since that's where she'd be any other morning. He keeps looking in corners and meowing in a pleading and confused manner. It's heartbreaking. She was his little sister.
We just want to say thank you to everybody who've been offering their condolences. We're very lucky to have such a great support network. Lord knows Juneau would rather play than have us hug him for comfort. Silly boy. We especially want to thank Teresa. When we came home from the vet, there was a rose plant on the coffee table with a card and note from her saying that she figured we wouldn't feel like cooking so there was a pizza in the fridge and brownies on the counter. T, you have been great. Thank you so much for everything.
It's early yet, and we know that it will get easier, but we miss that little girl intensely. Even as much as this hurts, we don't regret getting her for one day. She brought so much joy and fun and light into our lives while she was here. She was an amazing kitten.
I will be posting a few photos and videos of her shortly. They're just on the other computer...
