So my beautiful, manky little old man had to be put to sleep this morning. He would have been 16 in June.
He'd been slowing down a lot and back early last year was diagnosed with epilepsy but it was being well managed with meds, he’d only have a fit once every couple of months and then be back to normal after resting for a few hours.
Last night he didn’t want his dinner and was breathing a bit funny for around 5 mins but then settled down to sleep and I thought I’d just keep my eye on him.
This morning I left him dozing in the sunshine beam behind our front door, did school run, came back and as I came through the door he was laid on his side panting.
I quickly scooped him up but he was all floppy, normally he’d try to eat my face at me daring to cuddle him not on his terms. I rushed him to the vet but I think I knew. He didn’t meow in his box at all and normally he’d try to escape or make his disgust at the box of doom well known!
The vet listened to his chest, breathing and felt his tummy and then did that awful slow stroke whilst giving me the sympathy face. I burst into tears and asked if this was it.
This was the first animal I’ve ever had that I’ve been in the room for. My childhood dog was done by my parents and my other cat was done during Covid so I wasn’t allowed to be in the room with her.
I gave him a cuddle properly and told him he’d been such a good boy and he was gone before the vet even took his needle out of the little port in his paw.
Normally I never cry, even when my children were born (which he has been there and in the room for 4 out of 5 of them!) but I bawled like an absolute baby.
I know it was time but I already miss his grumpy little presence so much.
Ive come home and the dog is wondering where her little mate is. His little dent in the wingback chair is still there, we saved for so long to buy the chair but he commandeered it and it became lovingly known as the £300 cat basket 😂
Ive got to tell the children when they come home from school and it’s going to be so, so awful.
I know it was the kind thing to do, his heart was failing and the vet said if I took him home he would be in pain and it may be slow for him but I feel so guilty. He trusted me to help him and make him better but I let them put him down.
I would have paid anything for them to make him better, he has full whack insurance but the vet said it was time.
I don’t know why I’m posting but I just needed someone else who loves cats to reassure me that it was the right thing to do I suppose. My beautiful little grumpy boy. He’s seen my children born, been through 4 house moves with me, watched two relationships end then seen me marry. He’s always been there, my little £5 kitten from the back of the newspaper adverts.