My Beautiful BB has crossed the Bridge [View all]

[Sunriser13]

It was just a cold.

All four of the furbabies got sick, sneezing and snorting, within a few days of each other.

Tux, the eldest at around fourteen, was the one about whom I worried most. He has asthma, believed to have been triggered by a kittenhood illness that we nursed him through, and further lung damage from smoke inhalation when our house burned in 2015. Yet he shook off the cold in just a few days and bounced back to his old self. (Perhaps the same or similar strain that had him so sick when I first adopted him, so had some resistance?)

The other two, Ari and KittyKat, suffered the typical progression. It lasted about seven days or thereabouts, pretty normal for kitty colds. They are also both fully recovered now, thankfully.

BB was the last to get sick, showing symptoms beginning with the drooling and sneezing late on Wednesday, the 19th. His seemed typical at first as well, and I did the same things to help him through. My days were filled with cleaning kitty faces and eyes and fur with warm washcloths, watching that they were eating and drinking, and keeping everybody warm and resting as comfortably as possible. Lots and lots of soft words of love and encouragement, skritches and stroking and snuggles anytime they wanted, and frequent gentle kisses and caresses of their little heads.

While each had gone off their food for a couple of days, BB's appetite wasn't returning (although he continued drinking water), but he seemed to be trying to rally. The sneezing had stopped, and his nose and eyes were clearing more and more. So I tried to entice him to eat with chicken baby food and those Fancy Feast broth and gravy packet things. When he absolutely refused those, gagging at the mere smell of them on my finger, I started trying to assist feed with Nutri-Cal, desperately trying anything to get some calories into him. He fought it so hard, though, and I was afraid of him expending too much precious energy fighting me instead of fighting the cold. I decided to take him to the vet the next day.

He weakened considerably in the hours before they could see him. His body temperature had fallen, and his white cell count was extremely high. There was some slight threadiness on his lung x-rays, so possiblilty of a touch of pneumonia. He was a very sick baby, and he was hospitalized to administer fluids and antibiotics. I cupped his face, kissed his head, told him I love him and would see him soon. The vet and I then talked for a bit, going over blood tests and x-rays and possible aftercare needs. At this time I was told he had a 50-50 chance of survival, maybe less. I was absolutely horrified. This was late Wednesday afternoon, the 26th. When I last spoke with them just before 9 PM that night, BB was described as just resting. The doctor would call me first thing in the morning. I was invited to visit him the next day, with the best time being between about 10 AM to 2 PM when they were less busy. I cried all night.

The next morning, Thursday the 27th at about ten to eight, the doctor called and said BB was not doing at all well, that he is dying. The impact of the words "agonal breathing" sent icy shockwaves of fear for him through my very soul. It was suggested that it was time to come say goodbye (if he makes it until I get there) and give permission to release him if necessary. I let him know I was on the way and called a cab. All I could think of was to get to BB to cradle him and comfort him and let him know how much he is loved. Five minutes later, the doctor called back. "BB has just passed away. There was nothing we could do."

By delaying, I had gambled with his life, and he lost.

The intervening days have been a waking nightmare. The nausea comes in waves. Grief and guilt are eating me alive. The "if only" chorus screams a discordant cacophony in my brain. I regret every single snuggle he asked for and didn't get. I miss my velcro kitty following me around chattering all day. Oh, the conversations we'd have! I miss him demanding his "tea-time" (treats), and I miss him bogarting his spooning spot where he wanted to be held like a teddy bear while he purred in my ear until we slept. And I miss so much more. I'd gladly give him his very own case of TP to shred and clean up every hairball without (too much) complaint just to have him here with me. My heart is crushed.

The only thing keeping me going is the other three furbaby children here. They still need me and I still need them. They've needed me to help them finish recovering from this damnable disease that just killed their brother. They'll need me to do better by them than I did for BB, my darling Bibbity Boots, my heartmate who chose me to love, unconditionally.

My precious, precious BB, I hope you know just how very much I love you. I hope you know somehow that I was trying to get to you in time. I hope you weren't afraid. I hope you weren't in pain. Losing you feels like losing my child. We're not supposed to have favorites, but you were, and you knew it. I hope you can find it in your beautiful heart to forgive me - I'll never, ever forgive myself for delaying that extra day before taking you to the vet. You were almost exactly ten years old. You'd never been sick a day in your life. You were healthy and strong and fit. I really thought you were going to get better.

After all... It was just a cold.