We had to have our old cat put down today. The siezures he's had for the last few weeks were not improving and although he plugged on as gamely as always it was taking its toll. Watching him being put to sleep with an overdose of anathestetic was harder than I imagined and I'm afraid I didn't cope too well. An animal seeps into your life in ways you don't fully understand until they're gone. I've never known Fiona without him, 12 years now, and she had him for 15 years in total, initially through a rough period of her life, so especially bad for her.
We need to celebrate a great catty life though. He was a rescue cat when Fi got him in 1997, when he was around 2. He had a long, happy and contended life and he was a great character - grumpy and distrusting of everyone else, especially other mogs, but loving and trusting towards us. A house cat initially he got to roam and wander in the second half of his life, always determined to be top cat in his neighbourhood. He'll be well missed, but even better remembered.
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