In contrast to the years of her prime, Zoe became more and more affectionate as she grew older. Her purr was low in volume but high in vibration. She had presence even when visually absent. I could guarantee that you would find her on the arm of the sofa in the lounge every morning, on the drip mat as I emerged from the shower, taking a long siesta in the shade under the fig tree in the garden on a hot summers afternoon, winding herself round and nuzzling my legs in the kitchen when food was being prepared, waiting for the inevitable handout. Zoe was just always there.
She was fortunate to enjoy excellent health throughout her life until January 2009. Growing into a 8Kg (17.5lbs) contented ball of fur, she stayed that way until the cancer progressively ate away at her immune system and her weight plummited to under half of what she had been. Any unfortunate parent whose child suffers from anorexia has my deepest understanding.
Around the New Year, we encountered an enormous cyst of puss on Zoe’s back. We will never know how it came to be there - maybe an infected bite, perhaps a thorn from an orange tree; even the vet was puzzled especially as she never went beyond the grounds of the house. We drained the wound every night for several weeks; I administered the prescribed antibiotic shots and tablets; every few days we had the 1.5 hour round trip to the animal hospital. Threatened with an operation to completely clean out and remove, the cyst disappeared without trace of its own accord. Zoe returned to her normal routine and no more was thought about it.
Several months later, in-house photographer noticed that Zoe had lost a fair amount of weight although she had been observed eating. With 4 cats and 2 dogs as permanent residents, it is always difficult to gauge exactly who is eating what and quantifying precise amounts. In any case, with the extreme temperatures at this time of year in southern Spain all the animals consume a lot less and lose fur. As a precaution, we figured that an investigative trip to the vet for a blood test would be in order.
Neither of us were prepared for the results. The analysis indicated a tumour with an 80% chance of malignancy. The prognosis was a maximum of 6 months, even if they did operate and she survived radiotherapy. No words can adequately describe the shock we felt at that moment. My stomach contracted in disbelief like a coiled spring and I felt sick. How cold this be true? Zoe had been so strong and robust – the type of cat you always imagine will finally shuffle off this mortal coil after 18 years of what in the animal kingdom amounts to a life of luxury. Taking into consideration all the options, it was decided to take a “no intervention” policy, although we accepted medication to boost her immune system, along with some vitamin gel, and wait to see how she reacted.
To be continued…….Zoe – Part 3
