When my cat reached the end, Fresno-based mobile veterinarians provide in-home comfort | Opinion
Winona spent her first week with me hiding under a bed. When my hand reached out to pet her or leave treats, she growled.
A few Christmases ago, I reluctantly agreed to adopt one of my sister’s house cats. Mira explained that Winona was sweet-natured but timid after spending her entire life getting dominated by an older, larger sibling. What she really needed was a house – and a human – all to herself.
“She’ll be a good friend to you,” Mira insisted. But after Winona went into hiding and wanted nothing to do with me, I started to second-guess this new arrangement.
On the eighth day, I looked away from the computer screen in my home office and saw a black cat with a white chest blaze, white feet and a long, lush tail staring up at me. I said ‘Hi Winona’ while putting my hand down. She came over and allowed me to gently pet her for about 30 seconds. After that she turned around and went back into hiding.
Each day I started seeing more and more of the black cat with the lush tail. She explored all the rooms in the house and found hiding places in every closet. Once, after leaving for several hours, I discovered her sitting inside a bathroom cupboard.
It took Winona about three weeks to be 100% secure in the fact that no one besides me and her lived there. Only then did she begin lounging on the couch or across a rug. She also developed a fondness for jumping in my lap whenever I sat down and promptly falling asleep.
During the work day, Winona enjoyed hanging out in my home office. (She made regular appearances on video calls with Bee colleagues.) Even though I placed a blanket for her on the edge of my desk, she much preferred sitting on all fours right in the middle. Partially blocking my view of the computer monitor.
Every day, at least once or twice, I’d have to gently coax or nudge her out of the way so I could see what I was typing or reading. She didn’t appreciate that much and let me know with a groan. It was our little game.
A cat and her human
Winona and I became good friends, just as my sister predicted. She was my cat, and I was her human caretaker. Two beings sharing the same domicile. Though she often behaved like it was her house and I just happened to live there.
After 10 months of us being together, Winona began losing weight from vomiting and loss of appetite. A trip to the veterinarian for a full blood workup and ultrasound test raised concerns and resulted in a consultation with a specialist.
Sure enough, Winona had a mass growing inside her intestines: an indication of feline lymphoma. Knowing for certain would require a biopsy, and the recommended treatment was chemotherapy. The idea of putting a 13-year-old cat through chemo didn’t make a ton of sense, so I opted to manage her condition by (under the vet’s advice) changing her diet.
That’s how we existed for almost two years. Winona withstood a few scares during that time – most notably an attack by a vicious tomcat that chewed through the screen door – but always bounced back with her appetite and diva personality intact.
Then came Labor Day morning. Rather than awaken to Winona’s breakfast-demanding meows at 6:55 a.m., I awoke to a pile of vomit on the rug and a cat that refused to eat. She also resumed hiding in the closet.
Winona hated being placed in her carrier and taken to the vet more than anything. But the following day, with her condition unchanged, I had no choice. The vet confirmed what was obvious: She was in extremely poor health.
Priceless final memories
Because Winona had proven resilient, we gave her one more chance to bounce back. But the vet warned me if things didn’t improve in 24 hours, I’d have to make a difficult decision.
This was my first time going through this as a pet owner, so I wanted to know what the options were. I learned about a Fresno-based veterinarian network named CodaPet that specializes in end of life home pet care. There must be demand, because the network has expanded to 70 cities over the last 18 months.
The following day, with Winona still hiding and refusing to eat, I went to CodaPet’s website and scheduled an appointment.
As it happened, Winona was in my lap on the couch when Dr. Karen Whala arrived at my house. (I left the front door unlocked and texted Whala to let herself in.) After we consulted on how best to proceed, Winona never had to leave my lap again. The whole thing lasted half an hour.
CodaPet charged $300 for the in-home euthanasia service, roughly $135 more than taking her to the vet’s office. Incredibly well worth it, because the final minutes we spent together in our comfortable setting are priceless to me.
This is the first column I’ve written at home since Winona’s passing. Her absence is felt in so many ways, including me not having to glance around her cute face and pointy ears while typing. Right now though, my eyes can’t see through something else.
