My cat Oliver was 7 years old this spring. I remember when I first got him, my sister Charlotte and I were living and working in Jasper, Alberta. We lived in a basement with several other workers. Charlotte would often get home before I would and Oliver would sit with her while she read or watched tv. She told me that every time the outside door would open, he would lift his head and prick his ears, and then if someone else's room door opened, he would lie down again. But if our door opened and I came in, he would jump off her lap and run to greet me, excited that I was home.
I have been living in rental places that don't allow pets, so I left him with my dad and brothers. My youngest brother Charlie and Oliver became very close over the years. Yesterday, Charlie called me and said they were bringing Oliver into town to the vet because he hadn't been eating or drinking for a couple of days. He seemed to be in pain when he tried to chew and/or swallow. I met them and went to the vet with them.
Oliver wouldn't let the vet look into his mouth to see what was wrong. He was very scared of this strange place we'd taken him to. So the vet gave him anesthesia so he could check inside his mouth. The vet found a lump at the base of Oliver's tongue. He said it was most likely a carcinoma: a tumour. It could be removed, but would only grow back larger, and the removal would be invasive and cause Oliver pain. We could send him to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan for radiation treatment, but that might not work either, and would cause Oliver much pain and suffering, and costs $4000+.
I signed the papers to have my cat put down. He never woke up as we didn't want to cause him pain and fear, so Charlie and I said goodbye while he slept quietly on the examining table. We were both crying. I'm going to miss my little kitty.
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