When I returned home from Vancouver, we discovered that Sputnik has cancer. We knew something was wrong. She was continuing to lose weight despite the anal gland expression a month ago, so we knew it was something more than just a sore bum.
And this time, the vet found a mass. Quite large, so obviously it is quite an aggressive growth. Our hearts ache so.
We told the OFKAR yesterday and she is going to try to get home to say goodbye, but the poor kid has a particularly brutal schedule at school right now, with major papers and presentations and then with final exams starting in a couple of weeks. She is going to try to travel home in two weekends from now, but of course nobody knows how long Sputty actually has.
She is so thin, but still quite alert. And she still fixes you with that gaze, that look of intelligence and understanding, that tells you this is a cat that you don't mess with. She sort of sleeps most of the time, but it's a light sleep, not the deep obscenely comfortable sleep that cats are so renowned for.
Today when I returned from grocery shopping, she jumped into the back of the urban assault vehicle, just like she always used to do. And part of me rejoiced and wanted to believe that she was getting stronger, but in my heart I knew this was a last hurrah.
I wish I could help her.