Our cat, Data, started losing weight and barely eating, so he went on a trip to the vet yesterday. We figured it would be something minor like a sore tooth, but instead got some very different news: His liver is covered in tumors and failing, to the point they didn’t even do a biopsy. They sent him home with some steroids and appetite stimulant, but the bottom line was clear: He won't live to see his 9th birthday this summer. He probably won't live another week. There's nothing more to be done except decide when to make the worst decision a pet owner ever makes. Nicole and I are completely shocked and completely devastated. We've both lost pets before, but we figured this phase of the process was still a decade away. It's never easy, but this feels particularly hard. He's going to have the best final few days possible, with all the treats and Chipotle burritos he can manage to eat.
I'm not sure exactly what this thread is for, other than to vent and to share Data's story. So here it goes:
A friend of mine was doing IT work for the local police department, and found a kitten inside the server closet. Nicole’s a trekkie and I love puns, so we named him Data and brought him home.
From that day, he's basically always been by my side.
He'd even come out in the garage with me to work on projects.
He turned into a gigantic cat, eventually weighing 17 lbs. and being able to put his front paws on the counter from ground level.
For nearly a decade, he's always been at my side. He sits with me on the couch, sleeps with me at night, and since the pandemic and work-from-home, spends every work day on his spot on the desk right next ot my laptop. Data was there when I put on my cap and gown to graduate, there when I put on my suit to get married, just plain there.
Thank you, Data, for all of the happy memories. Hopefully we'll be able to make a few more before you have to go.
