Jezebel
I just got home from saying good-bye to Jezzy, my best cat friend, and sometimes best friend, period, of the past 14 1/2 years. She had battled against lung tumors for the past year, but was clearly losing lately. Tonight all the pieces of bad health news were there--lots of fluid in the lungs, secondary infection, and notable weight loss in the past few weeks. My vet gently told me that if I wanted she could try an injection that might give Jezzy a few days, but it would be all for me. I saw no reason to put Jezzy through that.
Jezzy spent the next 10-15 minutes cuddling against me as I hugged her several times, licked my neck, and purred in response to me telling her how much I loved her. Then I let the vet tech take her. They offered to let me be with Jezzy as much of the process as I wanted, but I knew I couldn't be part of that, and trusted them to be as gentle and good with her as they always have.
I'm going to go drink a beer. Or several.
Jezzy spent the next 10-15 minutes cuddling against me as I hugged her several times, licked my neck, and purred in response to me telling her how much I loved her. Then I let the vet tech take her. They offered to let me be with Jezzy as much of the process as I wanted, but I knew I couldn't be part of that, and trusted them to be as gentle and good with her as they always have.
I'm going to go drink a beer. Or several.