The waiting game...
16 years is a good run...it's longer than average for a cat, but I do know several people who's cats had lasted til 20 and beyond, and I was hoping that Figaro would as well. (And I wish the same for the other cats...)
A year ago, he would show affection by headbutting me so hard it would hurt. Now he's lost SO much weight: at least 10 lbs in the last year. He's gone from 15 lbs to...well, I don't know how much he weighs now. He was 5 lbs a month ago; he seems less now but I can't bring myself to weigh him. There's no point in taking him to the vet. He's eating, pooping, peeing normally...he's not barfy, not making messes on the floor, not in pain...he's just old.
My boy taught me about loyalty, and unconditional love. As strange as it may sound, he's a big part of how I became the son, the brother, the friend, the lover I am now. Sounds hokey? That's fine. But it's true.
On top of everything going on in my life right now, this is one more piece of pressure to add to the weight. This is the one that's kicking me in the gut, hard. I'm breaking down several times a day, bracing myself for the inevitable. All the while trying to spend as much time as possible with him, keep him comfortable, make sure he knows I love him...and trying to be cheerful, playful, enjoy the moment, because cats can read how you're feeling and I don't want him to feel that HE is making me sad, upset, depressed in some way that he doesn't understand.
I HAVE TO be there when he goes. I will disassemble completely if he dies alone, if I come home to a little ball of fur, his spark gone forever.
A year ago, he would show affection by headbutting me so hard it would hurt. Now he's lost SO much weight: at least 10 lbs in the last year. He's gone from 15 lbs to...well, I don't know how much he weighs now. He was 5 lbs a month ago; he seems less now but I can't bring myself to weigh him. There's no point in taking him to the vet. He's eating, pooping, peeing normally...he's not barfy, not making messes on the floor, not in pain...he's just old.
My boy taught me about loyalty, and unconditional love. As strange as it may sound, he's a big part of how I became the son, the brother, the friend, the lover I am now. Sounds hokey? That's fine. But it's true.
On top of everything going on in my life right now, this is one more piece of pressure to add to the weight. This is the one that's kicking me in the gut, hard. I'm breaking down several times a day, bracing myself for the inevitable. All the while trying to spend as much time as possible with him, keep him comfortable, make sure he knows I love him...and trying to be cheerful, playful, enjoy the moment, because cats can read how you're feeling and I don't want him to feel that HE is making me sad, upset, depressed in some way that he doesn't understand.
I HAVE TO be there when he goes. I will disassemble completely if he dies alone, if I come home to a little ball of fur, his spark gone forever.