Folks,
I have had two cats, one named "Shoot" (as in "Shoot that gol'durn cat") and the other named Worf (after the Klingon Security Officer Worf on the USS Enterprise - he eats his food as a Klingon would).
Sadly, being 17 years of age, Shoot became very sick over the past few weeks. I brought him the vetinarian for blood work, but nothing was found amiss. Yet Shoot began defecating on the carpet, he lost interest in both food and cat nip, and he would howl long and mourful cries in the middle of the night. So yesterday, I had to bring my best buddy - the one who was with me before I got married and stayed with me after the woman divorced me - for his final visit to the vetinarian. An overdose of valium was given to him behind his neck and then I held him in my arms where he wanted to be till the end.
A few photographs follow.
May the reader please forgive this lapse into sentimentality, but unlike us humans who have eternal souls, the only thing of a pet that remains behind is our memory of him, and Shoot was the best and most faithful friend I have ever had, putting up with my temper tantrums, my smelly farts, my wickedly bad sense of humor, the trauma of my divorce, moving from NY State to North Carolina without a meow of protest, and all the rotten things that have happened.
My best friend ever - may he rest in peace.
Sorry to hear about your cat. It is easy to get attached to them. They don't ask much and sure give us a lot. We've had as many as fourteen of them living with us at one time, mostly outdoors. People dump them out here and they always seem to end up at our door. We get attached to them and it always hurts when they die, or as is more likely out here, just disappear. My wife's favorite is Spot and he looks a lot like yours. He was in a fight the other day and came home pretty torn up. We're hoping he makes it.
ReplyDeletePersonally, I'll take a cat over a dog any day.