Six days ago, my cat, Artemis, was put to sleep. He was eleven years old, a domestic longhair who definitely had a good deal of Ragdoll in his lines. Really, though, this should have been done earlier. The moment I came home from college after my semester in mid-December, I could see that the cat I had grown up with was not alright. His fur, which is usually pristine and gorgeous, was ragged, plus he had clearly lost weight. But what struck me the most was how listless he was. I had come home for one weekend early in the semester, and he literally jumped up and ran over to me. In December, though, he barely seemed to notice me.
I work at a veterinary clinic that deals with just cats. Years before, we knew he had the beginnings of kidney disease, so we kept him on a low protein diet. Well, I brought him in to work on Christmas Eve to have him checked out. Turns out he went from twelve pounds in July to eleven pounds. Artemis was such a bad boy; we tried to get blood to see his kidneys' status, but he refused. He tried to bite the vet tech AND me, and he hissed, which was a first. We didn't want to upset him-- plus, when kidney disease hits, there's not a whole hell of a lot that you can do.
For the next three weeks, Artemis didn't do a lot but sleep. Finally, it seemed he was just withering away. He barely responded to anything at all. My other cat, his sister, was so good to him, and would continue to cuddle with him. I guess this is just guilt that I can't help, but I blame myself for not being home very often the last few days of his life. I would leave for work early and be out until 10 or 11, then pretty much crash without saying much more then hello to my animals. One day, I came home and got a better look at him, for what he really had deteriorated into. He was emaciated, he lost so much muscle, he could barely walk, he smelled like his litter box, would not eat.. the list goes on. I saw it, my mom saw it, but it took my dad and brother three days to agree. My brother especially was dramatic about it, threatening my parents to pull their plugs when they became ill and sickly.. blah blah, typical anger and denial. I don't exactly blame my brother. He's 16 and just had never dealt with the death of a loved one like myself and my parents had.
I slept downstairs by his chair for two nights, and when he lost bladder control, my brother finally saw that euthanasia would really be better than the suffering shadow of a cat Artemis had become.
No one was angry and everyone agreed it was time. I'm grateful my brother learned a priceless lesson, even though it was painful for everyone. He was my cat for just eleven years, but the love he gave me will last until I die. The worst part of his death was his suffering, and everything has been healing since he's gone.. and only the good die young.

xoxo Elsa
Unknown "duck" Sparkling - 16 years, 10 months, 16 days ago