Theresa · Mather

One of the crapiest and suckiest parts of having a pet is the end. Miss Kitty has put up a valiant fight, surviving cancer for a year and a half at least at the venerable age of twenty-something. Even after she had the tumors removed in January and they gradually came back, she's been a regular little Energizer bunny. The last couple of weeks things have started to go down hill. She eats and eats but her already slight weight has been falling away until she's bony. She quit grooming months ago and as her fur gets so matted it can't be brushed out, I've trimmed away the clumps so she's missing her lush fur ruff. Today, for the first time, she couldn't make it up the stairs. This afternoon when she came stalking after my lunch, her daily habit since she's been spoiled with people food since becoming ill, she couldn't jump onto the couch and I had to give her a plate of her own on the floor. She's spending the day looking off into space on a blanket on the floor. She doesn't seem to be in pain, which has made deciding whether or not to put her to sleep harder- so long as she's been willing to fight so hard to live, I haven't wanted to just stop her short. She may just go on her own now, it certainly won't be long. I guess I may have to make a choice very soon about if it's time to have her put to sleep. I really hate this part of having pets.