I love the multiple meanings of that word.
To rouse from sleep.
To hold vigil.
The path of something that has passed.
Today little Qiang Shen died. He was our almost 4 week old kitty who was having all the health problems. It would have been his four week birthday two hours ago. He was born breech, not uncommon for a cat. However, that was just the beginning. He had a hard time nursing because of a deformity with his mouth. Instead of the palate being straight across in front, it made a little inverted V, right up to his nose, so his lip was split as well. The palate was in tact, so that saved him for a while, but unfortunately congenital defects come in packs. He had an open fontanel on his head, aka a soft spot, that wasn't growing in. His head was massively out of proportion to his body and there were some odd ridges on his skull that shouldn't have been there. This also made his face a bit deformed, his eyes set too wide apart, and the lids a touch too high on the eyeball.
He wasn't monstrous, but you could tell by looking at him that something was wrong.
Aside from all that was wrong with him, and something a little more hidden to come to light his last day here with us, he was a sweetheart. Ready to purr from the time he was just a couple days old, soft warm body covered in downy kitten fur of white and ginger, and a strong spirit. That's his name in Mandarin, Strong Spirit, Qiang Shen.
For three days from birth, he could barely suckle, and nearly died. He was taken to a vet ER in the wee hours of the morning, where they were certain he wasn't going to last the night.
He proved them wrong.
He fought back and became strong, started growing, and working hard to keep alive. Since momma couldn't feed him, as he still couldn't suckle from her, the task fell to me to bottle feed. Every couple hours round the clock. As he gained weight, that timing was stretched to every three hours. He knew at the sound of my voice, it was time for food. He knew by my smell, he was going to get a full little belly and lots of attention. He'd mew and purr, eager to prove how much better he was doing.
However, there were the signs, the soft spot on his head that wasn't going away, the problem with keeping balance to walk, stand, or even sit.
Then, after nearly three weeks of nothing but progress, it started to happen. He had bad diarrhea that got all over him. Two times i had to clean him up. In the middle of the afternoon, he suddenly refused to eat. Then things started picking up that evening. He'd eat a little and mostly kept himself clean. Then, the next morning, I walked in to a heartbreaking scene. He was covered in feces, scooting himself around as best he could because he had lost most control of his head. He was mewling and shaking, tail twitching wildly. I bathed him again, warmed him up and got him to eat a little, then rushed him to the vet office.
The tests came back. Everything that was fixable, he was just fine on. It narrowed to something unfixable, something inoperable, something there was no medication for. Between the skull deformities and open fontanel, they had sorted out it was most likely excess fluid around the brain, causing pressure. If it hadn't been for this, he would have been a perfectly healthy kitten despite everything. His little body had coped with this as long as it could have, and was now at it's end. He had seizures in my arms, and was crying constantly now. The decision was made.
When the vet came in with the syringe, she let me know that he was too tiny to give the shot intravenously. She would have to put it straight into his liver. It would take a minute longer to work, but he would sleep first, then slip away. I couldn't watch as she gave him the shot, but I couldn't leave him. He stopped trembling and the mewing quieted. He was sleeping. But he was strong. She had to give him a little more. I explained his name through my tears. She said it was a good name. His tiny heart held out a little longer, then slowly stopped beating.
He was gone.
He had tried as hard as he could, but where his spirit was strong, his body was damaged. Here so briefly, but has taken a piece of my heart with him. When we come together on the other side of the veil, I shall be a little more whole again.
Rest well, my tiny one, knowing how much you are loved still, and look forward to the joy there shall be when you can be in my arms once again.
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