Our Moosh departed for the Rainbow Bridge at around noon today, after bringing immense joy to our lives for 11 years.
Her IBD had progressed to the point where trips to the litter box were so painful, she would throw up in reaction, making it almost impossible to keep any nutrients in her frail body.
We had a glimmer of hope a few days ago, when we discovered that she could (and would) eat raw marlin (her favorite besides ahi). For several days before that, she was eating maybe a tablespoon of prescription cat food per day, then throwing it all up. Our hopes were dashed day before yesterday, when she threw up the fish and stopped eating altogether.
IBD often progresses into lymphoma, and we suspect that’s where she was with this, but it’s hard to know for sure without a biopsy, and there was no way she could withstand that at this stage. The most we could do was to help her manage the pain and try to keep her as comfortable as possible.
Sometime last week, she let out a shrill yowl out of nowhere in the middle of the night after a trip to the litter box, and it became obvious she was in pain most, if not all of the time. We couldn’t let her live in constant pain, and we couldn’t let her starve herself to death. It was time.
Right to the end, she was constantly looking for ways to ignore the illness and just have things be normal. This morning, we woke to find her on our bathroom counter waiting for us to turn on the faucet for her, then she went down the stairs into the family room and looked out the window with Truffle, part of her normal morning routine.
It wasn’t long however, before she retired to the futon, and finally underneath the guest room bed, where she’d been hiding from the world the last few weeks. Neither Kathy nor I could get her the least bit interested in food.
After losing Widgit, Moosh was the last real tie we had to our life in California. Our world will never be the same without her. Truffle, for her part, kept trying to get Moosh to play with her, as if playing would make everything okay. As we learned from Widgit’s passing, when you can’t play anymore, it’s simply time to go to the Rainbow Bridge.
Aloha, dear loved one. Thank you for the cherished memories. You’ll always be our sweet baby Moosh. A hui hou…