I can't think of a poetic way to say this, so:
We had to put Frisky to sleep this afternoon. We brought the cats back with us to NY for the holiday so that we could keep an eye on them. She was fine last night, and seemed okay this morning, but when I got back from church today she was just... not right. Couldn't walk, her eyes were dilated, and she was breathing through her mouth and drooling. So we rushed her to the vet, thinking that maybe she'd hurt herself somehow, which would explain the not walking and maybe the rest if she was in pain, but the vet said that it was something internal, and she would probably be dead before any lab tests got back tell us what the problem was. And she just kept getting worse while were were there--she went from mewing occasionally to not being able to make any noises, and her breathing just kept getting worse. So we decided to let her go, rather than drag it out any longer when she was obviously suffering.
I'm going to miss that noisy little vomit bag.
Good-bye, Frisky. We love you.