My sweetheart Junior (Otis Jr.) has gone to that happy mousing ground in the sky. The vet believes he had a brain tumor or some sort of neurological disease that was just not fixable. He was stumbling around the house, unable to find the litter box, and, when he did have to relieve himself, he’d go into a kind of seizure with his paws all curled up and he’d fall over. Since his big episode in which he bit me (September) he has steadily gone downhill. He’d gotten to the point where he would either lie in my bedroom between the wall and the laundry hamper or pace the floors while constantly falling. It was so sad to see. He couldn’t eat right, wouldn’t drink. I had to give him droppers of water.
Letting a pet go is probably the hardest thing there is to do. Thankfully, the vet made it as easy as possible. Junior laid in my arms and purred as he went to sleep. He was unconscious as he got the final drug. It was awful, but very peaceful. His ashes will come home and rest with Otis out under the rose bush. If you’re so inclined, say a prayer for my little boy. He was a delight. I remember when he was little, he would stand on the cedar chest at the foot of my bed and swat at me with his little paws, like I was a play-toy. He’d be there first thing in the morning, waiting for me to get up and play. I will miss him so much.