We have a wonderful, competent and compassionate veterinarian. He comes to our home, which costs more than a clinic visit, but this has been far less stressful on our pets. But we won’t be seeing him anymore. We had our cat Snaps put to sleep on Monday. It was a hard decision, he’d been going downhill lately, but had been cheerful through it all. But he seemed depressed lately and in pain some of the time, and . . . well, not himself.
He sat calmly on my lap while getting a sedative, then lay down after a minute and then lost consciousness. The vet administered the anesthetic and in about two more minutes, he was gone. No fuss, no struggle, painless.
This is probably the hardest part of owning a pet; they don’t live as long as we do and so sooner or later it comes to this. He was a good cat, friendly, loving and cooperative, though he had severe digestive problems all his life. We’re not sure how old he was, we got him as an adult from a friend who had acquired him as an adult. We figure he was probably about fourteen. In the midst of all the sorrow, there’s also a sense of relief. No more vomit on the carpets, no more thoroughly disgusting litter box. No more strange loud cries in the night, or cold, wet nose on the face at three a.m. by a lonely cat. No more expensive vet visits and prescription cat food.
But no more purring snuggles.
We had long ago agreed he was our last cat and we intend to stick to that decision. But oh, my dear sweet orange cat, I’ll miss you.