May. 21st, 2012

dragonfare: (hard journey)
I buried one of our pet cats today.

Ivan was a Siamese cat. He was about 18 years old. He had enormous fangs (hence the name, Ivan the Terrible), but a gentle spirit. More than anything in life, he loved being petted and held. For a long time he was devoted to Randi and wouldn't let me come near him, but we finally made friends, and then he was fine.

For the past year, he'd been getting thinner and thinner, and a bit senile as well. But he could still jump up to get his food, he was eating and drinking normally, and he seemed fine. Then, on Friday, he just stared at the food like he wanted to eat but couldn't. By Sunday, I knew he was dying, and I dug a hole for him. He died Sunday night. I suppose I could have taken him to the vet, but the emergency costs are enormous, and he sank so fast, I didn't have time to consider it much. As it is, I think he was better off here. He didn't seem to be in any pain. Sunday night he just curled up in one of the cat beds. I gave him some food, and while he didn't eat it, he pulled it up close to him so none of the other cats would. My new kitty, Poofer, spent almost all day Sunday with him, just hanging around, and my dog, Paris, gave him a tongue bath. Then he moved to another bed and settled down for the night, and I found him in the exact same position this morning, only cold and stiff.

And that's all I can say, because now I'm crying again.