Today is the day that all responsible pet owners dread. Sometime in the next few hours we will be having our 22-year old cat put down.
It’s time. We now realize that we should have done it two days ago when the vet ran some blood tests and told us that he had months to live, not years. Decisions to put down a pet are necessarily unanimous within the family, and we didn’t have unanimity.
He can hardly walk. He doesn’t groom himself anymore, and that cat was a fastidious groomer. He has no energy. He is stone deaf, and has been for several years. In his prime, he weighed 9 pounds. He is now a skin and bones 5 pounds.
Even so, that isn’t the pet that I hope to recall or will recall.
He came into our lives somewhat uninvited. Someone preyed on our 11-year old daughter at the mall, claiming that if she didn’t take him home, they would have him killed. She snuck him home under her coat.
Even so, as a cute black kitten, he was very hard to resist, especially when he fell asleep on my chest that first evening.
We had a golden retriever who loved kittens and was very patient with them. She would lay very still in the family room while the kittens played with her. Over time our cat became so comfortable with her that he would sleep outside with her in the fully stretched out position that cats assume when they feel completely safe.
She wasn’t just his friend, she was his protector and he seemed to know it.
Most outdoor cats don’t live as outdoor cats for more than a year or two. This one regularly went outside and survived for twelve years. That came to an end when we moved to a neighborhood full of foxes and coyotes. Cats in that environment aren’t predators, they are prey.
I won’t bore you with all of my 22 years of good memories. Let it be sufficient to note that I’ve wiped away the tears several times as I wrote this.
And yet, putting him down is the responsible thing to do.
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