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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Camilla

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We put our Camilla to sleep this morning.

We were up with her last night til the early hours of the morning. She was tired, we took turns petting her, comforting her. Even though she was sick and exhausted, she was purring, content with our love and attention.

She woke up this morning even more tired. We took her to the clinic for her scheduled surgery. We didn't want to put her in the carrier anymore so David drove while I held her on my lap, wrapped up in my pale pink bathrobe. Camilla loved our bathrobes, every time she found one on the floor or the bed, she would climb into it and sleep. So I've been wrapping her in my bathrobe to take to the vet. We thought it would give her some comfort.

Her vet wasn't happy when she saw her. Even less happy when she found her temperature below normal. I thought it was good that she didn't have a fever, but the doctor said that it was a sign that her body had given up the fight. Evidently the second antibiotic we put her on to prepare for the surgery didn't work. Her body was failing.

She told us that there was a very slim chance that Camilla would make it through the surgery. It's a critical surgery even for otherwise healthy cats, and Camilla's body was failing. Yet without the surgery she wouldn't survive. We've run out of options to fix her medically, as she was no longer responding to antibiotics.

We decided not to put her through the trauma of surgery. She's been through enough already in the past week alone.

The procedure at that clinic is to give her something to go to sleep, and then after that the doctor will take care of the euthanasia. We stayed with her after the doctor gave her the first injection, petting her. She was purring softly, still wrapped up in my bathrobe. She was very weak, but she was still our Camilla for a time. I scratched her nose, she liked it. David rubbed her ears, she loved that. Every time we called her name, even when her eyes were closed, seemingly asleep, her ears perked up.

We stayed with her until she was completely asleep, when her ears didn't perk up anymore when we called her name. We left her in the care of her vet, who would do the surgery anyway to learn what she could in order to save other cats with the same problems.

Camilla was sleeping peacefully when we said our goodbyes, embraced in the softness of my pink bathrobe.

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