I haven't written as much about his problems as I have about Beka's. Partially because he is my parent's responsibility, not mine. So I didn't have to stress about making the decisions myself. (True, he was bought for me before I started 1st grade, but he eventually attached himself to my mom.) I did share last June that he probably wasn't much longer for this world, but then he managed to hang on, and he even improved. He's stubborn that way. And since he was improving, there wasn't much to bemoan about him on this blog.
But we finally decided it was time after he went downhill in the last few days. He'd lost a lot of weight suddenly: over a pound in 10 days. He was getting weaker, even his meow was weak. And he was having respiratory problems.
When examining him, the vet said that his organs were failing him. She also pointed out that he had lumps all over his body that weren't there when she saw him 10 days ago. He probably had cancer that didn't show up in his blood tests.
I'm amazed at how quickly he went, once he was given the injections. First to sleep, and then the overdose. We'd been warned that he might jerk or that other things might happen with the second shot, but nothing did.
It's amazing how quickly he died, once the decision was made to help him on his way.
And part of me still can't believe he's gone, even though I was there. I feel like I still need to say goodbye. Or maybe I just need to let go.
I've never been with one of our pets when they were put to sleep before.
At least he lived to be 18 years old. That's a pretty decent age for a cat.
|Socks at the vet, with mom|