Do not feel guilty, kind soul...
...you did what you had to do and you loved her and gave her some goodness in life. In the end, when all appeared hopeless, you spared her needless suffering.
I do wonder about your vet, however. On the summer solstice of 2001, our housecat calico, Chicago, who had never been outside in her live, slipped through a hole that Thunder Paws had ripped in the screen door and then got hopelessly lost in her own back yard. We did not recover her until seven weeks and two days later, by which time she had become little more than a feather-weight, dehydrated, bag of bones.
She suffered from a severe case of fatty liver syndrome. According to the vet, there was no more effective treatment than for him to hydrate her intravenously and then for her to eat and drink. Other than that, there were no heroics that he could perform. She was either going to live or die, and he made not one statement to give us cause for optimism.
So he hydrated her two or three times over a period of two or three days and we then kept a constant vigil with her. Chicago would not eat or drink, unless my wife or I held food in our hand and said comforting and encouraging things to her as we offered it to her. How well I remember the wonderful and tender feel of her raspy little tongue as she would weakly extend it outward and take the water-drenched kernels from my hand. We also hand-squirted that pink antibiotic into her to help fend off any infections that might try to take advantage of her weakened state.
It was touch and go for about a month, but she pulled through and is healthy today.
I cannot remember exactly what our vet bills were, but I know they did not exceed $300 - this in Alaska, where such things tend to cost more. Perhaps your vet has an explanation that I am unaware of, but I cannot help but wonder.
