I found out today that it is very, very likely that Fourth Meal has a fatal disease and will need to be "put to sleep".

Suffice to say, today has not been a very good day at all. It's been a string of stressful days as of late, and this is just the icing on the proverbial shit cake.

She has a UTI--she came home with one from her original vetting around Thanksgiving. It cleared up, or so we thought, but then the symptoms came back rather strong. We took her to the vet (again), got some meds, and it seemed to be going okay...until maybe a week ago. It really took a bad turn--so bad, in fact, that Fourthie had to remain hospitalized overnight. But when she came home, she was much better--her happy, healthy self. She had a few great days of being normal (still on medications, but normal), up to and including last night.

She's had some digestive issues lately, so we've been quarantining her in the bathroom overnight. It's a fairly decent sized room, and she has a litterbox, her food and water, and a kitty condo for the nighttime hours. She's never had any problems with it. I said goodnight late last night, and she plowed into her food as I was leaving. This morning, however, was an entirely different story.

K. went down to check on her/let her out/feed her again (she takes her medicine with food), and it looked like a war zone in our bathroom. The toilet paper holder was knocked over, the garbage can was tipped. There was litter everywhere--food and water everywhere--urine and feces everywhere. The clean up job ahead wasn't the problem, though. The problem was Fourth Meal. She was clearly in some altered mental state. She didn't come to me (and she always comes to me when I call her); her gait was off. She couldn't keep her balance. She would walk head on into the wall; she would stop mid-stride to bang her head off the floor. She wedged herself behind the toilet meowing furiously--not a regular meow, but a strange one. When K. went to put her into the cat carrier (as we knew immediately something was seriously wrong and rushed to bring her in), she didn't even put up a fight.

In short, it was a really bad scene.

Later on this afternoon, K. ran back up to the vet's office with her medications and they said--in no uncertain terms--that the outlook wasn't very good. They are almost positive she has FIP and if she does, it's the end of the road for her. I refuse to allow her to suffer but the thought of having her put down just breaks my heart. I know she's "only a pet", but she's *our* pet--she's part of our family. I'm having a very hard time accepting that her snuggles last night might be the last ones I ever experience.

The kids don't know anything yet, so I'm biting back a tremendous amount of tears. I'm hoping that her blood work comes back tomorrow with a positive outcome, but I know how slim the odds are of that being the case. I'm just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not ready to say goodbye yet at all.