Twenty years ago I took on a rescue cat that was ten months old and badly mistreated. Within a couple of months I discovered I was allergic to cats but I had taken him for the length of his life come whatever. He had had a rough trot at the beginning and needed some security.
Over the years he would sit in front of me and we would have many conversations about his daily adventures (he being a Siamese cross black domestic that never stop talking.)
Over the last few months he started to get some 'qwerky habits' and I realised he had feline senior dementia. Eventually I bit the bullet and phoned the vet for an appointment for euthanasia explaining my concerns. I was given an evening appointment for last Monday. It was the longest day I can remember and I was a total wreck by four o'clock. My son and his 'missus' took me, and on the way he wee'd in his basket and as he was on my lap it soaked me through to the car seat. My son laughingly said "He is sending you a last defiant gesture mum" which made me smile. The first one all day. I walked into the vet looking like I had been in the saddle for a week. Fortunately the vets had no pets or owners in there at the time.
We were taken through to the vet straight away. Taking one experienced look at Lossie she said "Oh poppet you're in you're own little world aren't you" whilst assuring me he was in no pain. I cuddled him tightly to me as his little spirit was finally laid to rest.
He is going to be buried in my back garden along with my son's cat (five years old that passed on just before Christmas 2011), a robin, a squirrel, and a young fox. No wonder I have so many crows in my garden.
Rest in peace dear Lossie.