We had to put George down yesterday. This is my first cat I've ever had (only other pets I've ever had were fish) and this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.
We adopted him from the Humane Society in 2007, he was born in 2005. We loved him right away. He was the sweetest cat ever....more dog-like than a cat should be sometimes! He would come when called, loved to be around people, loved belly rubs and ear scratches, wagged his tail when he was happy, and would have even drank from the toilet if we would have let him! He knew if myself or my fiancee were feeling down and would come to comfort us. He loved catnip and treats of course. He also loved to play with anything that was free - ie. cardboard, paper, newspapers, shopping bags, balls of tinfoil, string, etc. He had a perfectly good cat bed to sleep in, but he was much happier in the empty cardboard tray from a 32 can pack of Coke. He would play in it and with it, and curl up and sleep in it when he tuckered himself out.
The past few days he hasn't been eating hardly any of his favourite kibble. We offered him some wet food instead as this usually helps him get enough food into him to pass whatever is causing him the problem, and then he'll go back to normal. He refused it. Soon he wouldn't even eat treats, or even drink the tiny dribble of milk out of my cereal bowl which was his custom every morning. I offered it to him yesterday, and although he tried to get to it, he let out a mournful meow and laid back down. That's when we knew something serious was up.
When we took him to the vet they x-rayed him and found kind of a dryed hairball/kibble ball that was stuck in his digestive tract, which is why he wasn't eating. This was a treatable issue, and we and the vet were optimistic. They kept him for the afternoon to treat him, and then take another x-ray.
When the blockage moved, they took the second x-ray. It revealed a large mass/tumour of some kind that we couldn't see the first time because it was hidden behind the blockage, and George's condition began to rapidly decrease. We were taken to a room at the clinic which was made to be peaceful and comfortable - a place where I guess they bring the sick animals to be put to sleep so it doesn't have to be done in a cold operating room. We laid him down on his towels on the big leather couch. He was drooling from the treatments he had earlier, and we could tell he was in a lot of pain. Every once in awhile he would let out a sad little "help me" meow, and he kept shifting around to try and be more comfortable. His once bright and happy eyes were so sad...I think he knew his time was up. He was in so much pain and discomfort, and the vet said that the damage from this mass/tumour thing had been done and there was nothing that could be done to help him. The last and most merciful thing we could do for him was to put him to sleep. He wanted to be on the floor all of a sudden as he started shuffling towards the edge of the couch, so we laid him down there on his towels. My fiancee's parents were on the way down to the clinic, but George couldn't wait for them to get there. He suddenly became very still on the floor, and we thought he may have passed naturally, but then he gave another laboured breath. The vet said his heart was beating very slow and that we shouldn't wait any longer, so he gave him the anesthetic while we both petted George and told him we loved him. And then he was gone.
We took him home to my fiancee's parents house and buried him there, where they have laid some of their other pets to rest before. Before we buried him, we made up a little mold with some plaster of Paris in it, and took impressions of his paw prints so we have a moment of him. After we dug the hole, we put some cardboard down at the bottom with some treats, so he can always be laying on cardboard for eternity like he enjoyed doing in life.
He was such a good kitty, and he was too young to die. He was only 6.5. It's not fair that he didn't get much time, but I think we gave him the best life he could have ever hoped for once we took him home from the shelter. Someday I think we will rescue another cat, but right now we're just so torn up about our Georgie-poo. I think I will donate some of his things that are still good back to the shelter, and then I can tell them the story of how George had a good life once he came home with us.
I miss my friend so much.
[George hanging out on top of the garbage can! He enjoyed sitting in the strangest places.]
[George enjoying playing in one of his many cardboard boxes over the years.]
[Sitting up on the couch, on the day we brought him home from the shelter. "This is great, I think I'm gonna like it here."]
We adopted him from the Humane Society in 2007, he was born in 2005. We loved him right away. He was the sweetest cat ever....more dog-like than a cat should be sometimes! He would come when called, loved to be around people, loved belly rubs and ear scratches, wagged his tail when he was happy, and would have even drank from the toilet if we would have let him! He knew if myself or my fiancee were feeling down and would come to comfort us. He loved catnip and treats of course. He also loved to play with anything that was free - ie. cardboard, paper, newspapers, shopping bags, balls of tinfoil, string, etc. He had a perfectly good cat bed to sleep in, but he was much happier in the empty cardboard tray from a 32 can pack of Coke. He would play in it and with it, and curl up and sleep in it when he tuckered himself out.
The past few days he hasn't been eating hardly any of his favourite kibble. We offered him some wet food instead as this usually helps him get enough food into him to pass whatever is causing him the problem, and then he'll go back to normal. He refused it. Soon he wouldn't even eat treats, or even drink the tiny dribble of milk out of my cereal bowl which was his custom every morning. I offered it to him yesterday, and although he tried to get to it, he let out a mournful meow and laid back down. That's when we knew something serious was up.
When we took him to the vet they x-rayed him and found kind of a dryed hairball/kibble ball that was stuck in his digestive tract, which is why he wasn't eating. This was a treatable issue, and we and the vet were optimistic. They kept him for the afternoon to treat him, and then take another x-ray.
When the blockage moved, they took the second x-ray. It revealed a large mass/tumour of some kind that we couldn't see the first time because it was hidden behind the blockage, and George's condition began to rapidly decrease. We were taken to a room at the clinic which was made to be peaceful and comfortable - a place where I guess they bring the sick animals to be put to sleep so it doesn't have to be done in a cold operating room. We laid him down on his towels on the big leather couch. He was drooling from the treatments he had earlier, and we could tell he was in a lot of pain. Every once in awhile he would let out a sad little "help me" meow, and he kept shifting around to try and be more comfortable. His once bright and happy eyes were so sad...I think he knew his time was up. He was in so much pain and discomfort, and the vet said that the damage from this mass/tumour thing had been done and there was nothing that could be done to help him. The last and most merciful thing we could do for him was to put him to sleep. He wanted to be on the floor all of a sudden as he started shuffling towards the edge of the couch, so we laid him down there on his towels. My fiancee's parents were on the way down to the clinic, but George couldn't wait for them to get there. He suddenly became very still on the floor, and we thought he may have passed naturally, but then he gave another laboured breath. The vet said his heart was beating very slow and that we shouldn't wait any longer, so he gave him the anesthetic while we both petted George and told him we loved him. And then he was gone.
We took him home to my fiancee's parents house and buried him there, where they have laid some of their other pets to rest before. Before we buried him, we made up a little mold with some plaster of Paris in it, and took impressions of his paw prints so we have a moment of him. After we dug the hole, we put some cardboard down at the bottom with some treats, so he can always be laying on cardboard for eternity like he enjoyed doing in life.
He was such a good kitty, and he was too young to die. He was only 6.5. It's not fair that he didn't get much time, but I think we gave him the best life he could have ever hoped for once we took him home from the shelter. Someday I think we will rescue another cat, but right now we're just so torn up about our Georgie-poo. I think I will donate some of his things that are still good back to the shelter, and then I can tell them the story of how George had a good life once he came home with us.
I miss my friend so much.
[George hanging out on top of the garbage can! He enjoyed sitting in the strangest places.]
[George enjoying playing in one of his many cardboard boxes over the years.]
[Sitting up on the couch, on the day we brought him home from the shelter. "This is great, I think I'm gonna like it here."]
George 
