Sunday, January 27, 2013
Java is lying down on a white towel draped across our cream comforter with her gold eyes staring listlessly at the wall. Steve and I changed the bedding at 1:00 a.m. because Java had vomited on the quilt; she vomited in several other places in the house; we have lost count. This is unlike her, who is usually meticulous, and always uses the litter box. We can't bring ourselves to sequester her like a prisoner to one room, so we clean up where she has been ill.
Steve and I took Java in earlier last week; the vet was optimistic. A subcutaneous IV and a round of antibiotics later, Java was sent on her way. We understand that at this point we are maintaining her, as our fourteen-year-old Java is experiencing late stages of kidney disease along with arthritis and a sprained left paw, yet like a wounded warrior, Java manages to hobble downstairs to eat and drink, and hobble down one more flight of stairs to use the litter box. We have medications to alleviate Java's discomfort and nausea, and a couple of short stools strategically placed to assist her with logistics such as climbing onto the couch and bed. A friend told me once that animals have a way of conforming to whatever life deals them. Observing Java, I agree with her.
"Hey, Princess, can I give you some fresh water?" Steve kindly greets Java as she clambers gingerly down the stairs into the dining room, and heads into the kitchen. Steve freshens the water in her bowl.
"Does the water feel better?" Steve asks.
"Mrow," Java responds with a chirp.
Java's persistence and resilience will make tomorrow's decision--under the advisement of the vet-- even more difficult.
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