Last week we had one of our cats put to sleep. Spindle had been sick for over a year. We had hoped it was IBS, but in reality the vet thinks it was lymphoma. We tried a lot of different treatments (steroids, special food, vitamin B shots), but in the end nothing helped. She was loosing weight and fur, her tail was matted with feces, and we were pretty sure she was in some pain. It was so hard to make that final decision and even though I knew it needed to be done, I couldn’t make the call – my wonderful hubby called the vet to make the appointment and then went with me.
When I was looking for pictures to show the kids, I was amazed at just how bad she had gotten. I knew her fur wasn’t nearly as sleek as it once was and that she had lost quite a bit of weight (she weighed 3.9 lbs at her final vet visit – she used to weight around 7 lbs).
She was the first pet we had to put to sleep…the first pet my kids lost. I thought I would be fine – I knew it was for the best. Even so, I cried as they gave her the sedatives and I watched her relax for the first time in probably weeks! All three kids were sad, but my middle child, who is eight, was most affected. Spindle was his buddy. She tended to be scared of her own shadow, but at night she would curl up next to him and no matter how much he moved around, she didn’t run. He understood that it was time and we talked about it a lot (every time I took her to the vet, I warned them that it could be her final trip). My youngest is only five and I don’t think he really cares as much. My oldest is ten and while she is sad, she also knew that it was time. She’s also hoping that she can finally get a kitten (I’m not sure I’m ready for that!).