I lost one of my old women last week.

It still hurts. She was only 16, my sweet, beautiful Ping.

It started during the first week of January. I noticed she wasn't lifting her tail all the way, she would lift the base of it but the end would just slump over. I wasn't overly concerned because she was completely normal otherwise, but I booked her in at the vet anyway.

Things progressed very fast. Before the vet appointment arrived, she started limping as well. Subtle at first, like a stubbed toe, but by the time the appointment arrived she had started dragging it.

The vet was incredibly unhelpful. She told me she wasn't in pain, but she had a heart murmur now and it was nerve damage, it might get better, it might not. Then she just sent me on my way, no treatment plans, no advice nothing.

A few days pass and by this point she's basically dragging the leg and tripping her other back leg up with it. She's not jumping up anywhere anymore.

I wanted a second opinion and booked another appointment, but she was just getting worse and worse with every day that passed. She started not using her other back leg and having accidents because she couldn't climb into the litterbox anymore. She was obviously uncomfortable and her back legs would just collapse if you put her on them.

All the while she was still eating, drinking, taking herself to and using the litterbox despite her often times not being able to get in fully before going. She was still her, alert, doing her best to be active, wanting cuddles every evening.

I tried to make things easier for her. She still insisted on being in the cat tree, so I made a step down system with the dog steps (he doesn't use them anyway) and other bits so it was at least easier for her. I bought a box, cut a hole in it and made it into a litterbox she could just drag herself into. I started feeding her upstairs, had a whole food system for her. I started giving her butt baths after her litterbox visits so she didn't get disgruntled smelling like pee.

The appointment soon arrived and the vet immediately told me she needed an MRI to see what was happening. It was something on her spine. She set up the necessary things and Monday the 3rd of Feb we were driving 2 hours to a specialist.

They kept her there overnight, they wanted to do extra tests to make sure her heart murmur wasn't going to cause her problems with being put under. She also had a spinal tap and lots of other things. She was cleared on the 4th after multiple tests and on the 5th she had her MRI.

We got the call in the evening of the 5th to tell us it was Neoplasia, which for those who don't know is basically tumours on the spine. I was given three options.

- More expensive, intrusive tests that would involve things like drilling into her spine that would leave her uncomfortable as heck. She told me that odds were they wouldn't bring anymore information to light, just confirm that it's not a bacterial infection.

- Inflammatory steroids which, if it is a bacterial infection, would hopefully hit it and do something but the odds were very low.

- Let her go.

I opted to try the steroids and if there was no change the next day, I'd say goodbye. After I hadn't been able to be there for our dog during lockdown I promised I'd be there with her when the time came and I intended on keeping that promise. I could've also just brought her home and she could have continued on, living on painkillers, dragging herself around but that wouldn't been any quality of life, especially for a Queen like her. We have a lot of stairs in our house, she would've been secluded to just my bedroom and it was clear she wasn't enjoying that.

The 6th came around and there was no change with the steroids. My mother drove me down there. They gave me some time with her in a room, where they set up blankets and food and treats for her. She was still the same as she had been at home, except now she had bald patches and tubes sticking out of a bandaged front paw. She was still active, eating, drinking etc. I gave her treats, I intended on giving her cuddles but she decided she'd needed to poo and had effectively smeared it everywhere. I couldn't help but laugh.

Then the time came. They wrapped her up purrito style for me and I held her in my arms, giving her kisses, telling her I loved her and saying goodnight to her like I had every night for the 10 odd years she'd lived with me. I held her as they sent her to the bridge and cried as she lay motionless in my grip. I held her until I felt her going cold, then I had to fight every muscle in my body to let her go so they could take her away. It was quicker than I thought.

I kind of knew the day I dropped her off that she wouldn't be coming home. Now the cat tree next to me lays empty, the litterbox is just in the corner I haven't been able to bring myself to do anything with it. I'm just floating, I hurt so much, physically I am here but mentally I am still in that consultation room, clinging to her.

It all happened over the span of a month. I am glad she was insured at least, it's taken the sting off the 6K bill a bit. But I'd rather just have her back.

This image is the last picture I ever took of her. I didn't want my last picture of her to be in a medical room, partially bald, bandaged and covered in shit. So my last picture is her sleeping peacefully on my chair shortly after I gave her a butt bath.

Goodnight Ping Ping, I love you.

TL;DR - My completely healthy cat got killed within a month by neoplasia, insure your pets.