He had FIV, diagnosed very late by which time there was very little that could be done. He was so strong and powerful - he was a HUGE cat. Presented so healthy that we suspected the vets thought we had some kind of feline Munchausens by proxy because despite his diagnoses he looked like a cat in the prime of health. But he had no white blood cells.
He stopped eating on Sunday. No food, no water. He started to hide away under the bed, the place where he would go to to let us know something was wrong. We spoke to the vet - they agreed it was time to do The Kindest Thing.
We found a vet who would allow us to be with him and made the appointment. On the way there in the car I put my fingers through the mesh like I always do when we travel but for the first time ever he put both his paws round mine and licked my fingers. He knew. He held on to me the whole way there.
It was over so quickly. His beautiful bright eyes were still so bright and full of life, even in death. I'm so glad that the last thing he saw and heard was us there telling him we loved him. He was the best, most beautiful boy. It was a day sooner than we could have made the decision but I am of the a day sooner than a day too late frame of mind. We booped his nose before we left him. The staff could not have been kinder or more understanding.
Why do they leave such a massive fucking hole? I know it will get better but we miss him so much.