I think she thinks her name is “Brindle, Dammit”!

One thing I think I forgot to mention the other day when talking about Brindle (Bitchface) is that she’s been running out the door to the outside every chance she gets. She’s never really done that before, but suddenly, it’s like the outside is the place she needs to be. She’ll run out, though, quick and purposeful, and then… just stand there. Look around. “Why did I come in this room?” And by that point I’ve put down whatever I was carrying, shut the door so the other animals don’t get out (or in, if they’re outside cats), yelled out, “Brindle, God damn it!” and come after her. She just stands there and looks at me. “Hey, I seem to have gotten outside, I don’t know what I’m doing here, fix it?”.

Sigh.

This morning I woke up to discover, and we don’t let the cats sleep in the bedroom with us any more, but I discovered Brindle had, within the last few minutes, fallen into the toilet. Or maybe a water bowl. I picked her up and her entire belly and all her paws, and part of her tail, were soaked. SOAKED. She didn’t seem to care much. She just wanted to sit in my lap while I’m at the computer… so I got a towel, put it on my lap, and that’s where she’s been pretty much for the last hour and change.

For the last few days we’ve given her a can of wet cat food when we’ve woken up, and another one about an hour later. Usually she dives right into it… this morning she was happy when I opened it but she didn’t really do much more than push it around with her nose. She ate some, but not the whole thing. Maybe about a third of the can? The rest of the cats were happy to finish it off, and I haven’t yet opened a second for her. She really just seems to want to sit on my lap and purr softly.

I don’t think it’ll be too much longer. Does that sound horrible? I don’t think she’s in pain, she’s not acting like an animal in pain (otherwise I would be at the vet first thing, so that I could make it better for her – I’ve always believed in quality over quantity and would not hesitate to let her go if I thought she was suffering)… but I think she’s starting to wind down. I always joked that she was so bitchy that she’d just complain her whole way out of the party, hahaha. Now, in her last little bit, all she seems to want to do is snuggle.

I talked to a friend once, who knew he was dying, and his take was that if changes happen (to your body and health) over years, you have years. If the changes happen over months, you have months. If the changes happen over days, you have days. And having watched my father, and his best friend, and countless cats and dogs go through this, I agree. I’d be surprised if Brindle has a week left, poor dear.

I’m torn between “it’s okay, Brindle, you’ve been a good cat and you can go if you have to” and running her to the vet and saying “damn the expense, make her fat and bitchy again!”. But again, quality over quantity. I never wanted to be one of those people who keep their pets alive longer than they should be. I did that with Bridgett, kept her around longer than she probably wanted to be there, and I swore I’d never put myself above a pet again.

Dammit, Brindle.