From Cole to Ethan, with love

I'm convinced at this point that Cole (aka Fatty, Fat Daddy, Newman, Colie Rolie, and Dole--Eric doesn't quite have his C's down yet) just lives to spite Ethan. He's around 16 now (got him on Christmas Eve of 1991, my Mom loves to tell the story of missing her work Christmas party to drive to Bel Air to get him) and at every annual vet visit, Ethan and I hold our breath to find out if this will be 'the year' that the vet will finally advise us to send him to a better place. Granted, we our holding our breath waiting on different outcomes, but it's a suspenseful couple of days just the same. And, in the end, you can see Cole practically laughing at Ethan as the vet calls and says things are fine, especially considering his age.

Anyway, so off we go to our annual visit and things seem to be okay. Vet calls a few days later to discuss some 'unusual' test results and in the midst of playing phone tag, Ethan and I discuss how far we are willing to go to keep Cole alive. I mean, let's face it, he is 16, and he's grumpy (mostly to Ethan), he has trouble with the steps some times, trouble with the litter box a lot of times, and there's only so much you can do for him even if we did have an unlimited kitty fund. So we have our discussion and agree to what we are willing to do.

Finally talk to the vet and it's a continuation of last year...Cole's kidneys are continuing to shut down. Levels are not where they're supposed to be, his weight is down, his appearance shows he's losing his appetite and ability/desire to groom himself...I start preparing myself for the medication recommendations.

Last year's recommendation: prescription cat food (not much more than regular food)

This year's recommendation: Pepcid AC

I think this about sums up what Cole would 'say' to Ethan, if only he could: