My cat lived well north of 18 years and just passed away a few months ago. For the last six years of her life she had to cope with her hyperthyroidism and her daily dosing of meds to keep things under control. She did well throughout, though, but during her last year she went deaf and started to lose her sight, and it was very humbling to see this once mighty cat shrink from her peak weight of 15 to around 8 pounds. In a way her deafness was a blessing, as she’d spend hours and hours during the day in the deepest of sleeps. Funnily enough there were a few times when we had thought she had passed, as she’d be completely still and no amount of prodding or picking her up would wake her until she’d suddenly pop out of her slumber, which would scare the sh*t out of us before we’d erupt in laughter.

In her last few days it was very apparent that she was going to be leaving us soon. She stopped eating and drinking and could only take a few steps before needing to rest. I was keeping a close eye on her and on her last day I suddenly woke up at four in the morning and after frantically searching the house I found her sprawled outside behind some deck furniture. She was still alive but could no longer move so I picked her up, placed her on the patio couch, lit the fire pit, and sat next to her. We hung out together throughout the morning and early afternoon, as I wanted to give her a natural death, and as the day wore on she fell into a coma and her breathing became shallower and shallower. Unfortunately, though, even though she was no longer conscious, she fell into periodic seizures and convulsions and worried that she might be in pain, we rushed her to our Vet and he helped to carry her over to the next life.

RIP, Baby. We miss you. Every once in a while, out of the corner of my eye, I can still see you walking around the house.