About three months ago, Otto was diagnosed with cancer. He has been sick for over a year, but it took a while for him to be properly diagnosed. If you know me, you know how hard this hits me. I don’t want to say that Otto is my best friend, but he certainly is the only friend I’ve shared a bed with for the last 7 years. Wherever I’ve been for the past 7 years, Otto has been. The cat has a passport. Of course I think that Otto is the coolest cat in the world, but I am ok if others feel that way about their dogs, girlfriends or kids too.
When I found out Otto had cancer, I was devastated. It seems like he’s too young to die and when he does, well, I’ll miss him like crazy. I tried to write about it, but couldn’t. I didn’t share it with anyone except a few friends. Why not?
I recognized if people had dumped a bunch of sympathy on me, that would have done very little to help fight Otto’s cancer. So I didn’t, and I am glad I didn’t.
Because Otto is fighting this.
He is on a mix of chemo and steroids. Pills every day, which he is letting me give him without any fight whatsoever. I assumed that every cat can bed fed pills like Otto, but that’s not the case. A few weeks back I tried to impress a female friend of mine by giving her cat her medicine. Five minutes into it, my arms were completely scratched up, the cat was completely freaked out and in hiding and I was still holding that darn pill.
Let’s just say that Otto is being a really good sport about fighting cancer.
And so far, somehow, Otto seems to be winning.
His symptoms have subsided for now, his appetite has returned and the puking has stopped.
I am not sure how much longer I’ll have with Otto, but every day with him is now a day more than I could have hoped for.
Here’s to Otto.
And cancer, fuck you.