Goodbye, Mr. Tumnus
We had to put our oldest cat to sleep early this morning. He was nearing 17, and had just...faded...over the past week to nothing more than bones. Hubby made the decision to take him to the Cornell vet school at 10:30pm last night - and the deed was done about 12:30am. April Fool's day.
I feel completely torn about him. He was my husband's first cat -adopted many years before we were married. In fact, back before we were ever dating and I had a simple crush on my hubby, I had constantly suggested he adopt a cat. Tumnus was that cat, followed by Lucy, who passed away last year. I never really "liked" Tumnus, but didn't dislike him either. He just kind of existed in the house. However, watching hubby hold him while he passed on - he may as well have been my own kitty. It feels silly being the entirely emotional one in the relationship - I went with him to support him - and I think hubby felt the need to support me instead. Stupid over-sensitive heart. I wasn't really close the cat at all, but letting him go was wrenching. How can one watch an animal die and not react? Even if it is the most humane thing to do.
I don't know what our three remaining kitties think today. Isabelle seemed to know something was up last night when we were trying to get everyone together for goodbyes. She stared at the carrier with wide eyes and didn't move. Oliver and Jasmine I think are just too young. Maybe they will begin to understand on some level in time. I feel so bad for them.
Life goes on, I know.