My oldest cat, "Hello Newman" has been with me for at least ten years. A handsome tuxedo male, he came to me via my late, dear friend, Dave Shiels. Dave already had a cat, Vinnie, who was violently protective of Dave. So, I went into his back yard to take a look at this cat whom he'd found on the street and was begging for me to take. It was dark, so I couldn't see much, but I agreed.

Hello Newman is a beautiful, loving, dignified cat.  He's probably about fourteen at this point, and has dropped from his prime weight of 16 pounds to a mere 11 pounds.  To help him keep his weight up, I feed him cans of Fancy Feast as often as he asks for it, to supplement his Science Diet.  He's also on supplements to help his joints.

The other evening, he was on my bed, sitting in what can only be described as a downright silly position.  He had most of his weight on his lower back, so that his hind legs were splayed out in front, with his front paws in between.  It was the first time I'd seen him do this.   I didn't give it much thought though.  Until this Saturday, when I found him in the kitchen having trouble with his back legs.

He had tried to jump onto the table from the bench and almost didn't make it.  At first I thought he'd slipped on a magazine, but to my horror, I realized that something was wrong with him.  He was staggering, every few steps, like a drunk.  In a panic, I called Cricket, who was away for the week-end.  I thought that I should take him to the Vet E.R. at the University of Pennsylvania, which is expensive, so I needed to borrow her credit card.  She agreed, but as I was such a tearful wreck, she suggested I take a few to gather myself and that she'd call me when she got off the road.

I took the time to re-assess the situation.  Newman didn't appear to be in any pain, he was just a little wobbly as he climbed up the stairs to my room with me.  I looked up his symptoms in some animal books I had.  His condition could be caused by any number of things, but the one that gave me hope, was that an ear-infection could be the cause.  Of course, brain trauma, chemical poisoning and a bunch of other nasty options were also possibilities.

By the time that Cricket called back, I had decided to take him to our regular vet, first thing Monday morning.  Whilst this may seem callous, I actually believe it's the best choice.  Our vet knows us.  She will be more able to help me make the right decisions for Newman.  Penn's Vet E.R. is a teaching hospital, so, while being an enourmous asset when it comes to life-threatening emergancies, they can lose sight of the quality of life issue.

When Cricket's last dog Nimrod, who was quite old, was brought in because he was bleeding internally, they were offering her the option of prolonging his life.  Turns out, that when asked for a prognosis, even if they did all the operations that they were suggesting, he would only gain a couple of months, if  that.  I was there with her when she made the heart-wrenching decision to let him die, to be put to sleep.  It is the greatest gift that we humans have; to be able to let our animals live and die with dignity, sparing them needless suffering at the end.

For now, Hello Newman is purring beside me on my bed.  Which is where I hope he'll be for countless tomorrows.  In the morning, we'll see what we can do to help him live a happy life.