My 13 year old cat had to be put down this morning. I loved him dearly and this was a very painful thing for me to do. This was done about 6 hours ago and I am still just destroyed over it. He was sick, had been sick since the middle of May and no matter how many drugs I tried to give him, nothing got better. I wanted to try to give him until November to recover. The rest of this is pretty horrible so don't continue if you're sensitive. This morning I made my decision because he wandered through the house, howling and yet didn't want to be touched, which is very unusual for my sweet and affectionate boy. I followed him to the cat box, knowing he had been suffering from cystitis and I wanted to make sure he was still passing at least some urine. He passed a little bit of urine just fine, but then he struggled to defecate. I watched and waited, and about a quarter sized splotch of bloody diarrhea came out. His insides were so inflamed that he was just in pain and was basically completely blocked. The last time this had happened, he had pancreatitis. Repeat episodes of cystitis I was willing to try to manage, as I had gone through two years of recurrent cystitis about twice a month myself and understood how it felt. It was horrible, but manageable with drugs. Pancreatitis is a whole other thing. I waited for four hours listening to my cat suffer and being powerless to do anything about it when I made the decision to call the vet and ask them to make an appointment for his euthanasia. They obliged, and despite Covid, they allowed me inside as well as my mom as long as we had masks.

I wrapped my friend in a towel and carried him on the way to the vet. I didn't want to put him in the cat carrier, because he always hated it. I brought him inside and he never even so much as purred the entire time I had him, also very unusual since he almost constantly rumbled ever since I first got him. He was just always a very happy little critter. I think he knew it was time to go. I held him in my arms while the vet gave him the injections. He passed away in my arms very peacefully. No gasping for breath that sometimes happens during death. No shuddering. No kicking. Nothing. He just went limp. So at least his death was a peaceful one.

I am in so much pain I can't eat, drink, or do anything except cry and lay around. I miss my friend. I loved my friend. I pray that when I die I will be good enough to go where he has gone. If any of you are the praying type, a prayer for my cat's soul would be so very appreciated. He was good. The best cat I've ever had and he didn't deserve to suffer, so I let him go.

My activity will be spotty. I may not be on for a week or so at a time, because obviously... cats. I don't intend to permanently leave at this time but I need time to heal and to come to terms with my amazing little friend gone. I got him when I was 16 years old for my birthday. He was from a littler from a church friend's cat. I called all of the kittens and tried to encourage them to come to me. Only he did, and he was already meowing and talking to me as he closed the distance. He chose me. These health problems of his happened very suddenly and just never really showed signs of improvement. I feel like I did the right thing, but that certainly never made it any easier to say goodbye.