This has been a tough year for pets in our house. Shortly after Julia was born, our 13 year old cat, Meowser, died. Today, we had to put McPurr down. He was suffering from kidney failure. Given that he was ten years old, there was only a small chance that he would survive the surgery. If we didn't put him down, it was unlikely that he would make the night (and his last few hours would be incredibly painful).
He really hasn't been the same since Meowser died. We knew it was only a matter of time, but it still seemed to come on fast. Last night, he was checking out trick or treaters at the door. He was letting Julia follow him around in her pig costume ("tee", slobber, "hee hee", "tee").
This morning, we awoke to high-pitched meows (much louder and more desperate sounding than the usual excessive meowing). We tried to make him as comfortable as possible (though Julia did give "tee" a few last fur-pulls). We said our good-byes knowing that there was a good chance Jason wasn't going to be bringing him home from the Vet.
The house is much quieter without him. We will miss him (despite our complaints). I mean, what other cat would let four-year old boys cover him with potato chips while he slept?