At 3:00 p.m. today I will do something I have never done before. I will take my pet to the vet be put down. All the other pets I have owned in my life have died all on their own. One was hit by a car, one was poisoned by a pet serial killer, others just disappeared into the wilderness and never came back.
Simon is 15 years old. He has not lead a very healthy life. He ate too much and slept too much. He was as close to Garfield as a cat could get without actually looking like him. I got him when he was a tiny kitten in my first apartment in NY. He has always loved to cuddle and between him and his brother, I will admit it, he is my favorite.
A few weeks ago we noticed that Simon was no longer eating. This was surprising, considering that he had a reputation for stealing entire steaks off of people’s plates at BBQs. He began to spend all his time sleeping on our bed. Then we noticed he could barely walk and had lost a lot of weight.
When I took him to the vet a week ago, he had lost 5lbs since March (1/3 of his previous weight). The vet saw no other symptoms and gave him some appetite stimulants and some steroids to try and jump start him back to the vivacious feline he once was. All this did was make him nibble for a few days, and then eat nothing again.
The decision to send him peacefully into that goodnight has not come easily and every other minute I change my mind. I know this is the right thing to do, and have known all week. He is already half gone from his body and isn’t really living. That is what I say to myself to justify this. I went on and on to the admin at the vet justifying in many different ways as I made the appointment. I almost lost it at one point when he asked if I wanted to be there. I do and I don’t, but I will be.