Back on page 54, I posted a photo of my cat Buck. Here’s another more recent one. We had to put him down today at 4:15 pm. He was 19 years old, and has had end-stage renal failure for quite some time. During the last couple of months, I’ve been giving him subcutaneous liquid injections every other day to try to keep him hydrated. I was getting pretty good with that needle too, but he’s been really in a bad way lately. Some suffering, along with diarrhea, barely able to stand up, and his kidney failure was causing him to head to the litter box every five minutes sometimes, only to barely pee anything out. But he never complained, which made it all the harder to make the decision to end his life. In his prime, he was a healthy 17 pounds (he was mostly Maine Coon). When I took him in today, he was down to just under 6 pounds, after having lately been dropping about a half-pound every two weeks. He had been in some form of kidney failure for the last few years, but it was manageable until it became end-stage, and obvious that he was not enjoying anything any more.
I’m 55 years old, but cried like a baby at the vet’s, and on and off pretty steadily ever since. I always knew I loved him, but I didn’t know how much until today. I got him from the giveaway section of the paper in 1996, and bottle-fed him from 5 weeks old, since he was taken from his mother too soon. We bonded pretty quickly, and he’s been a part of my life every single day for the last 19 years. I don’t think I’ve cried this much even when my own father died, and I loved him too. I’m probably too emotional to be posting right now (I can’t believe it’s affecting me this much), but this will likely be the only tribute he’ll ever have.
Farewell, my friend. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I did you.