Momo was down even more weight this morning. I knew it was bad. He'd been getting 12 syringes of food, he was even nibbling his own food, and yet his weight was steadily plummeting. I could feel the bones in his back.
Rob called the vet to try and make an appointment for tomorrow. But his regular vet is out of the office this week, so our options were wait a week (not an option) or go see their other exotic vet today on an "emergency" basis. So we put him in the carrier and made the drive. I was fairly certain as we drove there that the news would not be good. I can do the math. He was getting well over his caloric needs and he was still dropping. He wasn't having diarrhea or vomitting, he just wasn't absorbing anything from his food. And he wasn't drinking like normal.
So all that knowing it wasn't good? Still meant when the vet came back after calling to consult with our normal vet to tell us that his prognosis was very poor and they recommended saying goodbye I was completely unprepared and bawled my eyes out...I think I alarmed the vet tech.
We pretty much had two choices. We try a heavy duty anti-biotic, more syringe feeding and an appetite stimulant, or we say goodbye. The vet was pretty clear that she didn't think his chances were good, he was skin and bones and not acting himself. His organs were probably already shutting down. But that didn't make the choice any easier. I know how he hated having anything fed to him, he hated taking meds, he hated being wrapped in a towel and having things shoved in his mouth...but saying goodbye to my baby was the hardest thing I think I've ever done. And it didn't help that during the time they gave us to say goodbye he just settled right into my chest and snuggled. I wanted to hold him forever.
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