Seventeen is seriously geriatric in cat years, and it was only in the past few years that you really started to feel your age. You were a real trooper with your thyroid pills and acid reflux tablets. We couldn’t believe how OK you were with having medicine shoved down your throat… although treats will make almost anything tolerable. Except maybe nail trimming.
In the end, it was probably your enlarged heart that finally got the best of you. Your abdomen had filled with fluid, and you were having difficulty breathing. The vet told us you were critical, and that you could only get worse.
It’s been exactly one month since we said our final goodbyes in that little room at the vet’s office. We didn’t want to let you go. It was the right thing to do, the humane thing to do, but it was so hard.
I’ve had my phone’s Lock Screen set to a photo of my cat ever since we had to have her put to sleep earlier this month. It didn’t occur to me until today that I was basically ripping the bandage off the wound every time I looked at my phone.
Connor and I took a long weekend at the end of July to go visit my mom in Medina County, Ohio. Of course, I had to get a photo of my son in front of the iconic gazebo in Medina Square.
His Dad and I had collaborated to make him a mixtape (yes, an actual cassette tape that he played in an actual Sony Walkman) that included his favorite techno/electronic and video game music, and he listened to it nonstop. Hence the headphones.
I just got the film developed (yes, actual 35mm film) and was struck by how much my son looks like my mother.