For the last nine years I’ve had a cat, a polydactyl tabby named Digit. She quite literally had opposable thumbs, which she would use to get into all sorts of trouble. She would open cabinets, twist doorknobs, and go places she wanted to even when she knew better. She was a great cat full of life with her toys, harmonious when I just relaxed on the couch, and cozy when I bedded down for the night.



Over the last week however, she became very slow and stopped grooming herself. I first thought it would pass, but she stopped eating, then she stopped drinking. Finally she attached herself to me and refused to be left alone. Like she wanted to tell me something.



Now today, about 6 hours ago, I took her into the vet to find out what exactly was wrong with her. I was expecting a hefty bill at the worst, but I wish I had that now.

After a quick examination, and a 25 minute wait for blood work, the vet told me Digit had almost complete kidney failure. She was the most thirsty cat I had ever seen, but evidently that was because her kidneys were becoming increasingly damaged day-by-day. She couldn’t stay hydrated on a little water, so she would drink more to offset it. This worked for years, but at the cost of putting her already bad kidneys into overdrive.

This morning she could no longer drink, even though she wanted to, and I watched her try.

After the blood work came back, I was given two choices. Throw money at it so she would remain hydrated and live till her kidneys totally shut down, or euthanize her. I’ve had other cats in my life, but they all either ran away or died suddenly. I had Digit for nine years, she was healthy last week, and today I watched her slump over, stop moving, and die.

Six hours ago, I thought I had a sick cat.

Three hours ago, I was digging a hole in my parents backyard.

Now, I have a half full food and water dish that will never be emptied.

Tonight, I have nothing but tears.