Saturday morning , my10 year old Tom cat suffered a stroke. Fuck, fam, it was so bad. I had just got home from morning errands and caught it just as it happened. He was crying and crying. I called to him but he couldn't see, he couldn't hear, he couldn't smell...I scooped him and brought him in the house. His pupils were all fucked up and he was just shaking uncontrollably. I wrapped him up and just put him into a carrier and then I just cried. He was fine not even an hour before, sitting on his usual perch waiting for breakfast time. This was too sudden and too heartbreaking.
After a couple hours he started to come to. He freaked out when he couldn't smell and cried till exhaustion. But some hours later he wanted to walk again, even though he couldn't see or hear, he wanted to walk around so I took him outside and he walked till he couldn't.
He was accepting water by a dropper but his ability to swallow was impaired. I kept him hydrated through the night.
In the morning a little of his vision and his smells had returned. He wanted to drink water from his bowl and use the liter tray. He took a shaky walk around the yard and we did this throughout the day. He wasn't accepting food though. I borrowed a big kennel from neighbor and he chilled in there and was happy to use his potty. Like a Spartan, he refused to lay on anything soft.
The next day, he could see me approaching now and he meowed when I called him. He wanted to go outside to pee in the dirt. I feed my other cat and he meowed when he smelled it. He still couldn't really swallow though so I tube feed him. He was happy to have a bit of good. I washed up and he enjoyed a nap on the concrete. It came time to feed him again. He ate one and half teaspoon then he wanted to go outside and drink some shitty puddle water. There weren't any puddles but we found a bowl with some stagnant water. He drank it the best he could, choking a bit between gulps. We went outside and he walked till he couldn't the I brought him in for a rest.
Later that evening, I can to let him out, but he didn't want to go. I gave him head pets and belly rubs till he purred himself to sleep. I checked on him many more time. He slept quietly. I checked on him again, but this time his tongue hung slightly from the side of his mouth. He had choked to death in his sleep. His body showed no sign of spasms and was still warm, still immortalized in his favorite sleeping position.
I buried him this morning with some streak tribute.
The damn birds are so cockey today.