saddest blog post ever…
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We said a final goodbye to our eldest boy yesterday. George was a brave cat. He had been fighting lymphoma for over three years; much longer than any of his doctors said he would survive. But eventually, the disease and his chemotherapy-compromised immune system wore him down. Yesterday was a bad day for him; the […]
We said a final goodbye to our eldest boy yesterday.
George was a brave cat. He had been fighting lymphoma for over three years; much longer than any of his doctors said he would survive. But eventually, the disease and his chemotherapy-compromised immune system wore him down. Yesterday was a bad day for him; the worst he had ever had, and it was time.
I’m especially gutted, because I wasn’t able to be there. I was in Tennessee, picking up some veneer for future projects, including some that we hoped George would be able to climb on and enjoy the view from. We knew it was coming, but it happened suddenly, and it would have been only selfish and cruel to keep him hanging on until I could return home. I was able to give him a few head rubs and whisker strokes on the morning that I left for the trip, so I do have some closure, but I would be lying if I said it wasn’t gut-wrenchingly painful to know, as I was driving back, that I would never see him again.
Because we knew the end was near, we had made arrangements with a vet that specializes in euthanasia house calls. George was able to lay in a sunbeam on the carpet in our bedroom, and sniff the spring air through an open screen door, and be petted by his mom as he left us. So much better than yet another irritating, car sick, agitated trip to the vet.
I’ll always remember the first time he walked over my head, and shoulders, and down my chest, and curled up in my lap. (Because of his size, he often approached people from above, rather than from the more traditional cat direction. Plus, it was always very clear to him that he truly was in his rightful place when he was above a human.) It was when I had only known Laura for a couple weeks, and she told me later that she knew right then that I must be an OK guy, because her guardian trusted me and liked me.
I’ll miss his gentle request, via a single paw laid on my hand, to be petted. I’ll miss him walking on me when he wanted to be fed. I’ll even miss the times that he scared me half-to-death by coming silently into my office, standing up on his hind legs while I sat at the computer, and tapping me on the shoulder with his paw. (He was a very large cat!)
Time and disease kept him from doing that lately, and he was pretty lean and weak as of late, but here is a picture of him in better times; the way I will always remember him.
Rest in Peace buddy; I’ll always miss you.