My beautiful, empathetic, gentle friend … my companion, my purring, whiskered beautiful boy.
The vet’s coming to the house tomorrow. I feel like an executioner, knowing this. Planned since Thursday when I took him in & they offered to do it then and there.
This is the worst part of loving cats isn’t it?
He seems perfectly fine, purring away. Giving me kisses. But I know it’s time, he’s got an awful tumour, among other things & he’s about 15-17.
He’s incredibly empathetic and sort of psychic. Whenever I cry he rushes to comfort me. I think he might know his time is coming to an end & I feel absolutely devastated.