My little guy (aka, Zephyrus the cat) was so sick, today. He threw up everywhere, cried in pain and hid under the covers. Currently he’s in his little house.

Cats do that when they are ill; they hide. It’s a leftover instinct from their feral days. Their instinct tells them that they are more vulnerable to predators so to protect themselves, they must not become a target.

It’s a helpless feeling to not be able to make your pet better. And when it gets too bad for them, you have to send them on their way…put them out of misery and end their existence.

It’s too early for that, given his disease and progress, but I worry nonetheless. How will I do this, alone? How will I manage to end his little life after 12 years of loving his fluffy little self, to bits. I moved him all the way from Calgary, AB to Vancouver, BC. It was the longest drive of my life…11 hours to be exact. He cried all the way. Most of it, anyway.

How will I go on without him? No one to greet me at the door, no one to snuggle with at night and no more games of hide and seek, tag and kill the string.

But we do. Our hearts ache and break with grief but we get on with it.

In the meantime, he’ll get whatever he wants, tons of mommy love and I’ll stop at nothing to ease any suffering.

Good pet owners do that. We know when to hold on and we know when it’s time to let go.


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