Fighting for his life...

Things have been very traumatic, and not so great.

For the last year, we have watched our Supreme Grand Champion Black Smoke Norwegian Forest cat, Lestat, just waste away. He had gone from a big healthy, normal 20 lbs. To barely tipping the scales at a skeletal, emaciated 10. He had trouble standing and would constantly circle to the right. We had taken him to every doctor and specialist we could find in Southern Cal. Tests for diabetes, feline leukemiaŠeverything came up negative. At first they thought it was nothing more than an ear infection. Lestat would have good and bad days, and episodes where he would go stiff and semi-comatose.

While we were at our condo in Lake Tahoe, the noble and majestic Lestat went into seizures on Monday night. He went totally stiff, his eyes rolling and his head began to loll and his breathing became labored through what seemed to be fluid in his lungs. So we did all we could to make him comfortable and stayed up with him all night, rearranging his position and putting his head up while we put an eyedropper full of water in his mouth to keep him hydrated. We had been worried about him as he hadn't been eating for two days, and was extremely thin and weak.

Tuesday we took him to the Vet here in Tahoe, Dr. Bree Montana, and she said there was nothing she could do, and that instead of "talking to the priest", she said, "you need to see the POPE!" This meant going to the University of California at DAVIS Vet hospital, considered by manyto be the best in the world.

Even in his extreme pain, he was purring through the fluid in his lungs when we held him and told him we loved him, and held our fingers with his paw.

We checked in to UCD Emergency. Lestat was literally at death's door, and they jumped into action. What doctors in So Cal just scratched their heads at, the doctors at UC Davis diagnosed in 20 minutes. They immediately took him to neurology and did an MRI. The prognosis was dire. Lestat had a massive tumor pushing on his brain inside the right side of his skull.

Dr. Steven Westworth, with his cool English calm, gave us all the options. Lestat was under sedation. He was in bad shape. He felt that it would be best to just not wake him up, put him to sleep and let him die peacefully.

He then gave us the option of surgery. "Successful surgery under these conditions would be heroic, with a minimal chance of success." He stated grimly.  "He is eleven years old, there is a chance that we could hit a major vessel, and it is more than likely that you will spend a great deal of money and that he will die anyway. So his chances of survival are very slim." By this time I was choking back tears, hearing the fate of such a dear friend described in these cold, clinical terms. "Let me give you and your wife some time to think about it", he concluded, "as again we are talking about a lot of money here and I have told you the odds."

Melissa and I talked about it. I meditated and prayed, trying to push my way into a future point in space to get a feeling or vision of an outcome. We took into consideration all that Lestat had done for so many people with his loving acceptance, and pure, gentle nature. Everyone who had ever met him remembered him. Not just for all his ribbons and awards at cat shows across the country. I thought of all the kids in the classrooms Melissa had taken Lestat to who lit up with joy as they petted his luxurious coat. How they all wanted cats or wanted to become veterinarians as Missy taught them about responsibility and pet care. Or the reactions of Senior Citizens confined to a home who would pick him up and hug him and squeeze him, and have tears in their eyes when we left. Or the faces of terminally ill patients who had been robbed of the comfort and love of an animal due to the sterile environment they were confined to. For a short time they could exchange the gentle purr of a soft, beautiful animal for the electronic click and whir of a bank of machines.

This cat had done so MUCH for so MANY just by existing as the magnificent BEING that he was, that he deserved a fighting chance. If he died asleep during the surgery, he would at least die with us knowing that we did everything we could do to save him. This was going to cost a lot of money, but in the end I had to go with my beliefs that LIFE trumps property. That LIVING, and the continuance of life, especially when there was any small glimmer of HOPE was more important than any amount of cold cash. A pile of money doesn¹t love you or keep you warm at night.

I felt a warm glow coming from a future space, that reassured me that it would be alright. I remembered how he purred through his pain the last time I held him a thought an animal with this much love inside him has a RIGHT to every chance we could give him.

We called the doctor and told him to move ahead with the surgery, to do whatever it took to save him and that his fate would be in God's hands.

When we told everyone that here was an animal that was a purebred pedigreed champion, used to teach kids and that he was a Good ShepardTherapy cat for terminal patients and Sr. Citizens, it is like the entire staff fell in love with him, and took it all upon themselves to make sure that he did not die.

Lestat was sedated and they wanted to perform the surgery right away, but I wanted everyone fresh to do what they had to do the next morning. Their schedule was jammed, and they thought they would have to wait, but that meant more risks in waking Lestat up, then anesthetizing again the next day.

Melissa and I prayed to the Creator, to Raphael the angel of healing and put in a special prayer to the spirit off St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals. We prayed for our friend, and placed a glow of light and love around all of the doctors.

Turns out THE best pet neurologist IN THE WORLD teaches at UCD, and heard of the situation. He was off work that day, but came in to look at the MRI readouts and give his opinion on the case. After examining Lestat and reviewing his history, he decided to TAKE  OVER AND TO PERSONALLY PERFORM THE SURGERY.

Thursday night, at 10:00 PM they operated. They pulled almost ALL of the tumor out in ONE PIECE. The second small piece broke up, but they still managed to clean it all out. So the surgery was a total success! A heroic miracle on all levels.

All that night Melissa and I did prayers where we surrounded Lestat with pink, blue and purple light, using Remote Healing techniques to send him strength and love.

Friday morning Dr. Westworth phoned to tell us that Lestat was in excellent condition and was doing fantastically well. Originally they had told us that he would have to be on a respirator at $1000 a day. Now, because of the speed of his recovery, they were weaning him off the machine that day, and that he would be breathing on his own by that night.

Lestat will need a week in the hospital to recover, and they will continue to keep checking on the possibility of swelling in the brain. He will be on mild pain killers. But he has his OWN SECTION in the ICU ward, where people are with him 24 hours. We have to go back to Los Angeles, and we will drive up next weekend to pick him up and BRING HIM HOME ALIVE!

Getting him better will take some serious time and effort, but with a cat THIS blessed, we figure he has quite a few lives to go just yet!

STAY TUNED FOR UPDATES and of course...your love and prayers are very much appreciated!!

Sean and Lestat