So
It's been 12 days of up and down with Tigger. When we brought him home the 11th he weighed about 11 lbs (he weighed 13 lbs when my parents dropped him off at the vet's Jun 28th). On the 11th the hope was that he would recover more rapidly in the familiar, comfortable, loving environment at home. I syringe fed him high-protein food twice a day and tried different combinations of dry food, canned food, and treats in his bowl to entice him to keep attempting the arduous task of feeding himself. Half of what we would put in his bowl would end up on the floor because 1) he would lick it so hard around the plate it would just fall off and 2) half of what he did manage to pick up wouldn't stay in his mouth. Kitty, the assistant at the office who had cared for him most while he boarded, told us he hadn't had a bowel movement in his last couple days there, so we kept an eye on his litter box as well. The first two days were good.
And then it got not so good: very little eating and drinking, lack of interest in food, no poop in the litter box since the 13th. My sister arrived the 19th and immediately noticed that he doesn't respond to his name. His spine and hip bones jut out, and he no longer grooms himself. That night and all the next day he followed the two of us everywhere. We cuddled and petted and tried to feed him continuously, and he even struggled up and down the stairs after us. At one point she and I were in different rooms downstairs. He climbed the stairs by himself, then suddenly we heard this terrible wailing sound. I raced up the stairs, my sister on my heels, and found him on the old sofa upstairs. He looked at us innocently, quite pleased, and we laughed, thinking he had just been whining for attention/company.
But then that night, after my sister put him in his room and went to bed, he cried on and off all night long. I was upstairs on the other side of the house, but his cries were so loud they woke me. My parents finally awoke for work and let him out of his room, but he continued to cry. Finally at 7, I took him to my bedroom and petted and slept with him for 2 hours. Then my dad and I drove him back to the vet's, 5 hours before his scheduled follow-up. They weighed him again to find he'd lost almost another pound in his week at home. Dr. Resell tried to palpate his stomach, but when Tigger tried to bite him (Tigger *never* behaves like that), he decided it might be worth x-rays. So we left him there and returned to the house to wait for their phone call.
Around 5pm we called the vet. Dr. Resell told my father that the x-rays were unusual, and they suspected there was a mass in his abdomen (unrelated to his bowels) that caused him pain. He said that left us with two options, and we as a family should discuss it. The whole house was in a gloom. I cried on and off for the rest of the day. Tigger's the equivalent of 90 yrs old. He's not young by any means, but he's always been in excellent health so this - the idea of a mass that had been growing in his abdomen for some time - came as quite a shock to us. But obviously we didn't want him to be in pain, and the idea of extra treatment or surgery or living on pain killers... well that's not such a pleasant way to live either, is it? I suppose the tentative plan was to bring him home for us to love and spoil for a few more days and then... well, you know... on Tuesday, before I leave. If that's what has to happen, I want to be here with him for it.
But the next morning when I called the vet, Dr. Resell said he was no longer convinced about the mass in Tigger's abdomen. Tigger no longer struggled when Dr. Resell palpated him and Dr. Resell couldn't feel anything anymore. So what pained Tigger that night and what caused him to lose his appetite is a mystery. But as a result we decided to stick it out a few more days. If we can get him eating and pooping again, if the pain doesn't come back, the doctor thinks there's no reason Tigger can't live to 16 or 17. (Incidentally, Dr. Resell said it would be 15 years exactly on Thursday since he first saw Tigger as a 2 lb, ~2 month old kitten.)
So he's back home. He doesn't move very far from the little hallway near the kitchen, and he still hasn't had a bowel movement, but he is definitely making a valiant effort to eat. Since we brought him from the vet yesterday afternoon, we've made it through a 12 oz can of StarKist chunk light tuna in spring water. A good deal of it ended up on the floor, yes, but I think most of it is inside him. It's not the most nutritious food, but we don't care right now. Whatever it takes to get him to eat.
The whole family is anxious and completely absorbed in Tigger's progress. We can't sleep at night for worrying and praise him repeatedly and loudly whenever he eats. There is almost always someone sitting or lying on the floor with him, watching him sleep. My mother has even gone so far as to pet him with her hand. My sister is learning to syringe feed and medicate him.
The eating offers us a glimmer of hope, but we're not out of the woods yet, especially as I leave the 26th and my sister the 30th. So positive thoughts please... let's all hope he poops.
