In Loving Memory
Unknown – 14th May 2005
Approx 16
Billy came to us sometime in November 2004. He had been found in Billericay, collapsed and eating mud, and when medically checked he was found to have a thyroid problem. His levels were 273 and I’ve been told in an average cat they should be about 50. Jenny asked for me to medicate him for about 4 weeks before he could have an operation to hopefully help him. This was easy to start with as he was ravenous trying to raid the fridge, stealing anything he could lay his paws on. I discovered his love for cheese and he adored his tablets wrapped up in a nice piece of cheddar. When he got wise to this brie was the answer and I thought "well cheese has help me to gain quite a few extra pounds". This continued until Jennie said she hoped it wasn't a problem but with Christmas around the corner could the operation wait until January. I was happy as the lower Billy's levels became the easier the operation would be for Billy. This happened and Billy had the awaited op. He seemed to recover well. On his first trip out on his own he managed to find a way out of our garden and we could see him behind our back fence in the road. (I hasten to add a no through, very quiet road.) My daughter Gemma was visiting and she was my accomplice as I drove round with a bowl of biscuits to do a rescue bid. He was happy to see us and spend the very short journey sat on her lap in the front enjoying the journey with his head held high. I'm sure he was taking in the route. He then enjoyed his strolls out. We used to laugh at his gait: he looked like he should have had a handbag over his shoulder.
All of a sudden Billy seemed to start losing the weight he had gained and started getting hungry again. Once I found him outside eating a freshly cooked sausage, still lovely and warm - it looked straight out of the pan! A neighbour's window was open and the aroma of food wafted through the air. Well I'll leave the rest to your imagination! I took Billy to his usual vets and his levels were found to be 300, more than at the beginning. It was decided that the tablets were needed again: roll out the cheese. Unfortunately, Billy started to have periods of vomiting and diarrhoea. I took him back to the vets and he was given an injection which did help for a while. Billy started to refuse his tablets and although most of the time seemed content it was obviously not good for him to be sick. He also started raiding neighbours' bins and some in their ignorance started feeding him bowlfuls of milk. One even threw half a chicken carcass out for him to eat. As you can imagine this certainly didn't help his digestion. He loved his little wanders and I was paranoid he would become so ill he would not find his way home and felt his quality of life being kept in would not be fair.
I made the decision to end his days which took many discussions with Mick who had grown to love him too, and many tears. As the journey to the usual vets was about an hour and as Billy was also very car sick I booked him in to the vets locally where I take my other 7 cats. Well I didn't expect her response: she said that the second thyroid was enlarged and that an operation to remove that one would hopefully help him. I was torn. In the end, as Billy was obviously such a fighter to survive, I chose to give it a go not knowing whether the right decision had been made. When I got home I rang Jennie and spent a tearful conversation with her talking over the pros and cons. Billy survived the operation and when I went to see him later he was really pleased to see us and was recovering well. I brought Billy home the next day and he appeared to be fine, but 3 days later, whilst I was out helping PussyCat Lodge, Mick phoned to say Billy had had a massive fit. I knew then it was enough and was glad of Jennie's shoulder to cry on. I am usually a law abiding citizen, and anyone else who is should skip this bit, but I drove down the A13 back to Dagenham at breakneck speed to get home. My poor sister-in-law Esther chose not to check the speedometer and I think she had white knuckles. Billy got to the vets in time and went peacefully this time. I have been quite tormented by whether I made the right decision about the second operation but Billy did not suffer for long, and who really knows in these situations what is right.
I would like to thank Jennie for giving me the pleasure of looking after this little chap and, although I feel heartbroken now, I've got fond memories of his time with us, all be it only about 6 months, and would gladly do it again.
Chris Roche, May 2005
