Is My Senior Cat Dying? Recognizing the Signs & How to Support Your Pet

The family cat, Peanut Butter, is 17 years old and she may be dying. I waited to write about this because I was too upset to do it earlier, when I first admitted to myself that it was a possibility. I realize she’s old and that she’s had a good life, but I’m still sad thinking about losing her.  If my cat is dying, our whole family will mourn her loss. She has been, until recently, sassy, stubborn and mischievous. We call her Miss Thang, Miss Bitchy Pants, Newman (think the annoying guy from Seinfeld) and Kitty Kat. The running joke in our house for years was that the cat and I didn’t get along. That I tolerated her because she belonged to my stepdaughters. In truth, I cuddle her when no one is around and refer to her by her various nicknames with affection. She has always been “Miss Thang” and “Newman” to me; I don’t give nicknames to people or animals I don’t care about.

You can see the way Peanut Butter’s bones are sticking out in this picture from her visit to the veterinarian’s office last week.

Peanut Butter’s Symptoms

We’ve taken her to the veterinarian multiple times in the past several months. She’s developed high blood pressure, gone blind and been treated for a flea allergy. A year ago she weighed over ten pounds. Now she weights 6.2 pounds. She is skin and bones, despite eating well. She’s so thin you can feel every bump on her spine. Her hip bones are as sharp as blades. Her fur is rough and has lost its luster. She is frail, walks gingerly and occasionally sways on her feet as though too weak to walk. She seems to be shutting down somehow. It is painful to watch my cat dying.

What To Do (Or Not Do) if My Cat Is Dying

After a battery of tests, we are still waiting for answers to our latest concern – her drastic weight loss. It doesn’t appear to be cancer. It’s not a parasite. Blood work has been sent to the school of veterinary medicine at Michigan State. They are hoping to determine whether it is a rare form of thyroid disease. If it is, I can choose between treating her with medication or submitting her to radiation treatment. If Peanut Butter undergoes radiation treatment, she will be so radioactive she’ll have to be quarantined for five days. I can’t bear to think of her alone in a strange place, sick and scared. We don’t know how long it would prolong her life. Months? Weeks? Days? She is still adjusting to having gone blind less than a month ago.

Our senior dog Soldier will be devastated if his cat is dying. They sleep together, curl up around each other, and antagonize each other daily. They are, in the best sense of the word, siblings. So I wait. And I worry about my cat dying. And I hope that I won’t have to make a decision I’ll second guess over and over. And I keep trying to make her comfortable and let her know we love her. And wish I could do more.