May 11, 2009 13:19
I had her put down this morning. It was a sad choice, but the right one. At 18, she was off the charts for cat age, and her body was failing in multiple ways. We could have made her more comfortable, but for how long? Time to let her go.
When I bought a house, oh-so-many-years-ago back before I turned 30, somebody commented that I must feel really responsible now, with a house to take care of. My thought was that, actually, I had really started feeling responsible back when I got Meep. A house is only property, but that cat was going to be a lifelong obligation. And this was my final responsibility to her ... to make the hard decision that she couldn't make for herself, and help her along to an easier end.
By the way, she named herself. When I first got her, I looked down at her on the kitchen floor and asked, "Okay, little cat, what should your name be?" And she looked up at me, opened her kitten mouth, and said, "Meep!"
Goodbye, old friend. We went through a lot together.