Vagus the Cat

My cat Vagus is 18 years old this month.  I got him from the SPCA in Oklahoma in 1995, and he's been a cuddly pain in the ass ever since.  He loves to snuggle, and curls up in my lap when I'm on the couch, and next to my head when I'm in the bed.  He's been amazingly tolerant of Finn, who loves to hug him and snuggle him and brush his fur.  He also loves to howl in the middle of the night for no reason, and can do it for hours on end.  Hours.  On end.  (Imagine me, 6 months pregnant, yelling down the stairs, "For the love of all that is good and holy, Vagus, shut the fuck up!")  He's white with some black markings, and loves to get on all my black clothes and cover them with fur.  I've kept the lint roller people in business for years.

Almost exactly a year ago

This winter I kept smelling something off in my closet. And then I discovered that it was pee.  A large spot of pee on the floor, and on a few of my shoes.  I caught Vagus in the act, so I know it was him.  I've been vigilant ever since to keep the closet door closed, and always looking for pee spots.  I have found a few in the kitchen and bathroom, but none on the carpet.

A few years ago he developed some arthritis in his back legs, and couldn't clean his paws as well as he used to - so occasionally he'd step in wet litter, and then track it all over the house.  That's gotten a lot worse, and then, last week, it stopped.  It stopped because he was no longer making it in the litter box to pee.  He was peeing around the litter box, but not in it.  I tried getting a new little box with lower sides, but that didn't help.  So the floor is now covered with plastic and a large tray and puppy pads.

Less than 2 weeks ago

He's been on a downhill slide for months. Every time he doesn't come down when I'm home I go looking for him, half afraid I'll find his dead body curled on the floor in my room.  The past few days he's taken a fairly dramatic turn for the worse.  He hasn't done much but sleep, and I'm not sure he would have been able to make it down the stairs today if I hadn't carried him down. When I picked him up I was shocked by how light he feels, and I think that most of the grooming work has been done by the other cat, Zaphira.  He's eaten, and he's had some water to drink, but when he walked into the kitchen this evening, he was clearly shaky on his feet.

He's 18.  He's old.  I don't really think he's sick, I think it's just old age.  I don't know if he's in pain, but based on his behavior today, I'm wondering if it's time to take him to the vet and let him go.  I don't know if I'm capable of making that decision, though.  He's been such a pain in the ass his entire life that the thought of putting him to sleep fills me with equal parts sadness, relief and guilt.

I leave for Atlanta on Thursday morning.  My neighbors are going to feed the cats for me while I'm gone, but I'm wishing I had arranged for a pet sitter to come instead, as I don't feel comfortable asking them to take on the responsibility of checking on Vagus to make sure he's still alive and doesn't need medical attention.  I guess if he's not any better by Wednesday morning, I'll cancel my acupuncture appointment for that evening and see what the vet has to say.

It's hard to know which I hope for more - that tomorrow morning I wake up to find that he's passed in the night, or that I wake up to find he's back to his old self.  I feel like a horrible person for feeling this way.  It may be hard to believe, but I really do love him.  And as much as he has annoyed me over the years, I'm really going to miss him when he's gone.

8 years ago with the deeply missed Dakota