Today I had to take my cat, Elvis, to the vet to be put to sleep. The past few weeks had been really busy: getting packed to move to the new house, having prospective renters walk through the old house on the showings, tight deadlines with my job, plus family stuff.
When I work, Elvis will curl up under my desk at my feet. At night, he always curls up in the crook of my arm while I sleep.
This past weekend, I realized that he was so skinny I could feel all of his bones, and then he got weak.
Up until this week he had eaten all his food, had drunk his water, etc. There wasn't a clue that he was dying.
I took him to the vet and when the tests came back it was terrible.
Nothing could be done to cure him, or even help him for any meaningful length of time.
He has lived in three houses with me, knows all my friends, and had met my mom while she was alive.
His passing brings another chapter of my life to a close. I am fortunate that such a cat came into my life.
"He was the Cat that walked by Himself, and all places were alike to him ".
I hope there's a nice sunny spot waiting for you when you get there.
