Kayte,
My first FeLV+ cat was also the first cat that I
ever owned on my own. I'd
grown up with all sorts of critters, but it took a
few years after
graduating college to finally get in a situation
where I could own my first
"all mine" pet. I'd been wanting this cat forever.
I found Sushi at a shelter, she was 2 years old and
demanded that I take her
home that very instant. I L-O-V-E-D that cat. The
shelter had tested for
leukemia and FIV before I adopted her and she'd
tested negative. One month
after having her home, she was very lethargic. I
ran with her in a carrier
to a vet that I'd seen near my apartment, but I'd
never met. This was New
York City (Queens), so not having a car, and not
wanting to subject a cat to
a subway ride, I was pretty limited in my vet
choices. The vet was an ass.
He had no bedside manner. He made me feel like the
whole situation was my
fault. He'd HAVE to rehydrate, he'd HAVE to do
bloodwork, he'd HAVE to keep
her during the day - like I wasn't going to be
paying him for his efforts.
I was in tears, which didn't make him respect me any
more. Quite frankly,
he scared the hell out of me, and as it's all of our
deepest fears that it
really IS our fault, I was a mess. He retested her
for FeLV+ (she'd been
rescued from a house full of cats, so may have been
exposed close to rescue
and the first testing). I took her home as she'd
perked back up, the fluids
really helped, and she rebounded fully. Despite
this, when he called to
tell me that she was positive and anemic and had
"maybe" a month to live,
told me to expect to see rapid deterioration, blah,
blah, blah, I was again
distraught. The next week, against the back drop of
her romping around and
talking to herself, chasing bits of dust, knocking
things over (her favorite
was to knock my glass of water onto me at night),
trying to escape, I called
everyone that I knew hysterically telling them that
my cat was dying. The
vet said so.
Eventually, emotionally spent. I hung up the phone,
slumped down against
the wall and lethargically, tearfully gazed over at
her across the room.
Making eye contact, she marched over and placed a
World Cup worthy head butt
against my pathetic forehead. I giggled.
And I realized that I was being a dumass. Maybe she
had this disease.
Maybe she was dying, but who of us isn't? She
wasn't dead, and I was
wasting time being a melodramatic human. So instead
of focusing on how she
was going to die, I focused on how she was going to
live. I didn't have any
support, but I found a raw feeding list and, though
I didn't switch to raw
for a while, I started researching the feline diet.
And I put her on a
better food. And I moved into the city and found a
good vet. I took her in
for check-ups and loved the heck out of that cat
until she passed two years
after I'd adopted her of a heart attack (myocardial
infarction). Yes, my
life infarcted at that point, and I still miss my
sweet marshmallow-y
friend, who would lay on my arm at night and purr,
and gaze into my eyes
like she was proud of me. But she'd led me to
another positive cat to
adopt, Hepburn. And Hepburn led me to Satchmo that
I have today (also
positive). And Sushi, after all, after all that
that jerk vet said, never
did deterioriate. Never did succomb to the
leukemia.
I owned Hep for 2 1/2 years, she did die of FIP,
which was probably leukemia
related, but I'd gotten her as an older kitten, so
even there, she was on
the high end of her life expectency and she, too,
was an amazing, happy,
healthy cat until the end.
Satch I've had for two years now, I adopted him at 5
years old, so we don't
know when he was exposed to the virus, but he's the
biggest, stompiest guy
you'll ever have the pleasure of meeting, and other
than being susceptible
to URI's (which as long as I don't bring home sick
kittens that already have
URI's) hasn't been any problem. I have high hopes
for him going a very long
time. And I'm thinking of adopting him a friend -
either a positive kitten
or a negative adult cat - once he stops coughing.
I know that this has been long, and work is piling
up, but I just wanted to
tell you my story. Let you know that I understand
what you're feeling, but
take your cues from Crackers. Is he laying around
in dirty pajamas,
watching Ricki Lake, stumbling amongst empty Chinese
take out cartons,
wondering "why me?" This is a terrible illness, but
not one that is
powerful enough to take the good times away while
they are here.
Get a new vet. Pinpoint when Crackers was exposed.
What happened to
Pokemon? Was she positive? Put Crackers on a good
diet - there are lots to
choose from ranging from Max Cat to raw feeding -
expensive doesn't always
mean good, nor does the fact of it being sold out of
a vet's office. Do
some reading about which ingredients should be there
and which shouldn't. A
lot of people supplement, again anywhere from
Vitamin C to ImmunoReglin.
There is no one path to follow, just make sure that
you and Crackers are
happy on the one that you choose.
Good luck to you both,
Leslie
