Rico is gone
The vet left a couple of minutes ago, carrying the tiny bundle that is all the physical remains of Rico. Being the cat he was, he was stubbornly continuing to go to the sink for water, and he still used the box to the end. He got to sit in a pool of sun this morning, but he wasn't interested in looking out the window, something he usually loved to do. His movements betrayed increasing pain, and even when he was resting there were signs he was often uncomfortable.
Despite all this, he still tried to give us love. Josh kept him company up to the end.
We're fighting the urge to think that we were premature. I am trying not to fear that we waited too long. At least we know he isn't in pain, and he won't suffer the indignity of not being able to reach the sink, or the box. This morning our senior cat, Dawn, seemed unable to recognize him, which scared and confused Rico. Maybe this was another signal that the time had come.
It's over now. We just need to get used to living with a Rico-sized hole in our hearts.
Despite all this, he still tried to give us love. Josh kept him company up to the end.
We're fighting the urge to think that we were premature. I am trying not to fear that we waited too long. At least we know he isn't in pain, and he won't suffer the indignity of not being able to reach the sink, or the box. This morning our senior cat, Dawn, seemed unable to recognize him, which scared and confused Rico. Maybe this was another signal that the time had come.
It's over now. We just need to get used to living with a Rico-sized hole in our hearts.