Our poor Somer

This post comes from a very heavy heart.

Stace and I learned Tuesday that our Somer has cancer in her intestine, and it's spread to nearby areas and her lymph nodes.

This explains her lack of appetite; her weight had dropped another pound, to seven pounds, from her prior vet appointment 12 days earlier.

At the last appointment, we had hoped that her various symptoms were from a urinary tract infection. When we later learned that the culture was negative, Stace and I did fear it was far more serious. Over the weekend her appetite dropped even further, so I moved up her re-check appointment from Wednesday to Monday.

At that appointment, the doctor could now feel the tumor, and Somer stayed overnight for an ultrasound Tuesday morning, which showed the cancer.

The vet suggested, and we agreed, to give Somer a steroid shot that might make her feel a bit better and slow the tumor's growth, to give us a bit more time with her to prepare ourselves and Cora. We also are giving her a "low residue" food that digests easier and produces less waste, to make her more comfortable.

The shot worked, in that Tuesday night I was wakened at midnight by Somer coming into bed with us so I could pet her. She purred.

I realized I haven't heard her purr for weeks, and maybe months, if I think about it hard. And continuing that train of thought, Somer has been much less social for months.

I feel bad that I didn't pick up on that fact earlier. I guess we were busy with the new baby, and figured she was getting older. But she is only 7, and she has always been a very social cat, following us room-to-room to be nearby and talk to us. In particular, she always followed Cora around, and allowed Cora to roughhouse with her. But in recent months, Somer has mainly sat on a kitchen chair, or on the padded toybox.

These photos were taken the past couple of days, while the steroid was working. In the second photo, Cora is "drawing a picture for Somie."
Somer even played with a leaf Thursday morning. But today, Friday, she seems to be slowing down again. I'm dreading taking her in for the final time, and have been pretty much a mess a lot of the week.

We've been telling Cora that Somer is very, very sick, and she can only stroke her very gently. On Thursday, I asked her if she would like to get a new cat "someday," when we didn't have Somer, and she got excited about that idea.
Today, I told her that there is a bad thing in Somer's body, and it hurts. She asked if God could make her better, and I said, "Yes, and she will be better, when she has died. Because then she won't hurt anymore."
Cora brightly said, "But she'll in heaven, and when we go to heaven, we can play with her again!"

From the mouth of babes! I tell you, the tears flowed then, and still do as I write this.