So I'm going out to visit with him for the last time. I hope he recognizes me and purrs. That would mean so much to me. I hope I'm doing the right thing. I don't want to hurry him out of the world before he's ready to go. If they had animal hospice, where he could be on painkillers, that would be perfect. But the choices seem to be to let him suffer until he can't take it any more, or to put him to sleep before his suffering gets too great.
I was doing all right until I called my Dad, whose sympathy and regret and affection for me and my kitty was too much for me, and I started to cry. I'm not sure I can stop. I'm not sure there's any reason to try.
He was as good a cat as there ever was, and my companion and comfort for twelve years. I will miss him with everything I do.
- Current Mood:heartbroken
Comments
*hugs*
You've done all you can for him; and I'm sure you doing this because it *is* the right thing to do.
*offers more hugs*
Thank you! You've been so supportive throughout this -- I really appreciate it.
You've done all you can for him; and I'm sure you doing this because it *is* the right thing to do.
I think it was. The only other option seemed to be to let him continue suffering for a while, and I couldn't have borne that.
::hugs::
Thank you so much. That's very comforting to hear. I think it's inevitable if you have the care of someone who dies that you question yourself, your motives, your choices. But I know I did the best I could.
It would be impossible for him to have had a more loving, concerned parent than you. At every step you've thought only about what's best for him. I'm so sorry this came as soon as it did.
Thank you so much. That's very comforting to hear. It means a lot.