Daifoo 1991-2009 (2009-07-11)
Daifoo passed away on July 4th from kidney failure; he was 17 years and 8 months old. Due to the excruciating pain and indescribable devastation of losing him, it's not until now could I gather myself together to organize his pictures and write this post.
The multiple IV
treatments Daifoo had been given proved to be fruitless afterall,
it made him slightly well for just a couple of days and he would lapse
into lethargy with no will to eat or drink. The urinary frequency
returned, worsened by incontinence, bloody urine and at one time the
presence of pus. While his kidneys were shutting down, I
continued to make trips to the vet to "force" him to give Daifoo
nutrients and antibiotics injections hoping at least we could cure his
bladder infection. The doctor said it was no use but gave in to
my plea.
Every time he got weighed at the clinic, it was down by a 100 grams
until he last registered 2.7kg (6 lb) and his temperature dropped to as
low as 35C (95F). The doctor, in his calming and comforting
voice, told me no injections would bring him around. I asked him
how much longer Daifoo had, he said 2 to 3 days. Of course I
immediately bawled my eyes out, the thought of losing him, our beloved
friend, was too much to bear.
Daifoo was then sent home with his medications stopped. I
continued to feed him liquid diet through a syringe until the day he
refused to even open his mouth. He became so
weak that his body was limp and he would occasionally roll his eyes
without lifting his head to look at us, coupled with a few
groans.
I don't know how much
longer he would have to suffer before he went, but we couldn't bear to
see him like that and decided it's time to give him
peace.
We took him to the vet to have his very last injection, an anesthetic that put him to sleep. On July 4th, 4:32pm, Daifoo passed away peacefully and quietly surrounded by the doctor, two crying nurses, KL and me.
The few days before Daifoo died, he spent most of the time lying in
the bathtub. During the night, we had to shut the bathroom door
so as to stop him from dragging his body inside it because once he was
in, he was too weak to climb back out. At dawn July 4th, I heard
him yell. I rushed downstairs and he was sitting in front of the
bathroom door, turned his head around to look at me and meowed loudly
once. He asked me
to open the door and put him into the tub which I did. That was
the last time he talked to me.
The reason losing Daifoo is so very very difficult is because he had
such a strong character and personality. He was never aloof,
instead he was warm and stayed close to us. He would meow when he
wanted something as if he could talk. He would stand at the front
door and meowed when he wanted a walk, stand in front of the bathroom
door and meowed when he wanted to drink from the faucet or stand on the
stairs and meowed when he wanted us to go to bed with him.
His body might be gone, but his anecdotes, the mischief he had gotten into, and all the happy memories he brought us lingered on and on and on. It was like losing a very close friend when Daifoo died, a friend no other cats can replace.
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