On January 4th of this year, I noticed that my oldest and tiniest cat, Chayya, was not eating, and I was already facing a vet visit for her brother-of-another-mother, who clearly had some tooth issues. I bit the bullet and took an afternoon off and went to a veterinary clinic in Rio Rancho with the two of them, knowing my paycheck for the period was spent that afternoon. It was a good move. I mean, these cats have been my animal kids for 16 years or so.

After tests, we confirmed that the big boy, whom I affectionately call Gordo, did indeed have an infection, and the kind vet gave me some antibiotics for him.

She took some blood from my shrinking girl cat, and in a short time, a lab test confirmed what she suspected- that Chayya had a chronic kidney disease, and she needed some help.

A bathroom upstairs in the house became a cat infirmary, and my time as vet tech stared the following day. Chayya got some meds for nausea, and I got a basic subcutaneous fluids kit to get extra liquids into her, and I had subscriptions for kidney-friendly food for her.

I had always said bringing them along that I was not the kind of pet parent that would go to extreme measures to keep a pet around. My patience and my wallet dictated that position.

Meds helped Gordo’s mouth to feel better within a few days, and so my task was to try and help Chayya along. Within two weeks, she seemed to be doing much better- she had an appetite again, and more energy and acted like herself. And Gordo seemed better as well.

I was grateful that things were correcting for the cats.

Gordo soon limped a little with his front left leg, though, which I attributed to arthritis. He’s a big cat and overweight, as he has been for quite a while. My focus was on trying to keep Chayya going each day for the month- giving liquids to her every other day, keeping her in foods, and all that, and so I let his limp gp for a week or two.

In the late afternoon of February 4th, I was cleaning (as best as I can) in the cat room and saw Gordo licking his front left paw. I went and sat by him and lifted it and took a look at it, and realized it was extremely swollen and the pads were misshapen and white- and I knew I was again in problem-territory.

This time, it being a Sunday, the only vet clinics I knew I could take him to was either one off of Central I downtown Albuquerque, or out of town, 20 miles north in the village of Algodones. I had heard that the Roadrunner Emergency Clinic in Algodones was a very good place to take a pet, so quickly after seeing the state of his foot, he was in the cat carrier and we were off into the night headed north for the clinic.

It took nearly 8 hours to be seen, but we left with the wounded foot cleaned and dressed and meds. It wasn’t clear what caused the issue, but it was clear Gordo had needed help.

I returned home and it was Gordo’s turn to take the stage.

Suddenly I was taking him twice a week to my neighborhood vet to have the wound looked at, re-bandaged, and evaluated, and to get meds for it.

After nearly two months of working with my vet to try and heal the paw, after drug changes and some progress and some regress, my vet finally told me that something was keeping him from healing, and he wanted to run some basic tests, to try and get some other answers. And he had a hunch. We discussed costs and investments and the whole old animal care topic (how far do you go?), and I asked him if there was a basic test that might tell him what he needed. Yes- there was one that was not a full panel.

On April 4th, I consented to him taking a sample from the wound area for that test for Gordo which would tell him what he needed to know. He did, and then redressed the paw, and told me he’d call me in a few days with the results.

And 3 days later, he called and let me know the results.

“Yeah. I am sorry, but it looks like that paw isn’t healing because there is most likely a tumor in it.” He was seeing squamish cells in the sample he had taken from the area.

A cancer.

What would you normally do in this situation?

“Well, if he was a younger cat, we would need to take his leg off. But he’s not young. And he’s overweight. It would be hard on him to recover and then get around on his three legs.”

I tell the vet I feel like I’ve failed Gordo to some extent along the way- that I hadn’t paid attention enough to him, that I feel bad he didn’t have a better life, that I feel like I have been a poor pet dad. He has been a hard cat to care for in some ways over the years, and I’ve had my seasons of frustrations with him.

“Well, you’ve faithfully brought him in here twice a week for a long time to give him help. That’s more than a lot of owners would do.”

“And I understand where you are at, Bruce. You’ve done a good job trying to take care of him, and I understand the conflict you feel. I have cats I have to take care of too, and in your shoes, I don’t know how much I would put into an older cat.”

I bring Gordo home after the visit and ponder where this is going.

—

We don’t know where this is going, really.

I am still giving Gordo his meds, although I have pulled back on them quite a bit, as one of them makes him throw the whole mix up now when I give it to him. I feel bad about this, too- that I sacrifice future longevity for his current comfort. He lives with a cone on his head and doesn’t move around and do a whole lot.

And then there’s Chayya.

She’s in the same boat with him, really. Her life is dependent on kidney flushes now and special foods. She lost a LOT of weight over two months when I didn’t realize what was wrong with her. She became a head and a firry skeleton in my hands. And that weight is still largely off today, although she eats heartily the special food she gets.

They are both 16, and it will come for them sooner or later, as it does for all of us.

How to make it okay for Gordo, how to maker it okay for Chayya, how to make it okay for me remains the big question at the moment.

Gordo will keep his leg, but presumably lose his life because of it.

And Chayya’s kidneys will be done at some point.

And I will have learned a few things about loving, I hope.

About being more patient.

About being responsive a little sooner.

About accepting some extra costs to honor a long relationship.

And about letting go when you need to, which is a part of embracing the whole of it all.

—

I originally got Shukriya (Gordo) from the Animal Humane Society as a playmate and pseudo-sibling for Chayya way back when. I was living in an apartment then, and was out off and on quite a bit, and I didn’t want her to be lonely.

In many ways, I kind of viewed Gordo as an accessory, a supplement, an aide to Chayya, and in some of my frustrations with him, didn’t stop to regard who he was as himself. He was big, and he was quiet. And he did seem to bring Chayya comfort and company.

Many times over the years the two cats could be found sharing a cat bed in the evenings, keeping each other warm (or Gordo keeping Shukriya warm).

And he has been what he was supposed to be for Chayya. A partner in life.

The techs at the vet have told me Gordo is a sweetheart. He doesn’t give them any problems when they work with him. He is an easy animal to care for.

He has been pretty easy to care for really.

He loves his belly rubbed and his face rubbed and gentle words.

To the end.

—

I am grateful to Dr. Caleb Engel at 4 Paws Pet Hospital, who I initially viewed in my jaded consumerism as a corporate-driven adversary (through no fault of his own), and who I later learned was a very gracious and generous veterinarian who is strongly devoted to healing his patients and helping their owners. He has been a very good person to walk with in this journey with Gordo.